The Battle for Vince's Soul

[ClaRK! Kent]

I'm liking this tenure as Undertaker, and lookin' forward to the Summerslam matchup with Taker/Eddie. And there was me thinking earlier that Taker was gonna stiff and short Eddie all over the shop. Divine intervention, eh?

RK!

[The Third Dukes]

Tuesday, August 19, 2003, 10:22 AM

Detroit, MI

As we entered the auditorium to watch RAW, I passed by Chris Benoit on the side. He was having a conversation with old friend Eddie about SummerSlam, but there was something in his voice that indicated he was upset. I pulled off and sat down behind them.

"Hey guys, how's it goin'?"

"Hey, Taker. Not so good."

"What's wrong, Chris?"

"You didn't hear, man?"

"No. Was I supposed to?"

"I guess not. Um... it's Jericho."

"What about him?"

"He tore his calf muscle last night during a match. He's out until at least WrestleMania, probably longer. Poor guy won't even be on TV for a while."

"You mean, he can't even limp out for the Highlight Reel?"

"No, man. It's too dangerous to fly. He's going to Birmingham for rehab."

"Damn. That sucks, man. Hope he's all right."

"Yeah... next time we're in town, we should go visit."

"Sure. Hey Eddie, what have we got for tonight?"

"I dunno, man. I think they're having us talk."

"That oughta be fun."

"I wouldn't say dat so fast, esse. I mean, you 'n' me fill a segment? Can we do dat?"

"Don't worry, Eddie. It'll be just fine. I mean, you and Benoit did a whole segment together."

"Yeah, but we had a history, man! What about us?"

"You have a history, I have a history. Work with that. I mean, why not take our worries and make them the story?"

"Well, I guess... I'll just do what works."

We couldn't continue the conversation any further, because Stephanie had the microphone.

"Okay, gentlemen -- ATTENTION PLEEEEASE!"

Everyone stared in confusion at her, thinking she had gone into her act. I hadn't heard that kind of screeching out of Stephanie in weeks. I would've figured she wanted to save her voice.

"Paul, are you ready?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then let's get started with the show. After it's over, we'll announce procedure for tonight's show."

*****

- The SmarK RAW Rant for Aug. 18 / 03

- Live from Grand Rapids, Michigan.

- Your hosts are Jim Ross, Jonathan Coachman, and Jerry Lawler. Coach replaces Good Ol' near the end of the show when Kane is making his appearance.

- Highlight Reel: Eric Bischoff appears on the show and announces that he's in charge tonight. Well, I should hope so, since he is the GM and all. He declares that The Rock will show up for the main event, and can even pick his opponent. He then announces the return of the Inter-Promotional Brawl, featuring the best RAW has to offer. And himself, of course. Jericho naturally assumes he'll be on the team, and is told he will make captain. They both make fun of Kevin Nash with regards to tonight's big match. Good little businesslike segment.

- Opening match: La Resistance and Test v. Hurricane and Dudley Boyz. JR tells us that the two teams will officially meet at SummerSlam, as if we didn't know how that would turn out. Seriously, does anyone give the heels a hope in hell? Housecleaning to start, and Grenier takes the Wazzup Drop. Test boots D-Von during the dance, getting two for Grenier. Dupree in, and La Crepe gets two. MAIN EVENT SPINEBUSTER follows for two. Bubba runs in and distracts the ref, allowing Test and Dupree to do the old T&A double team for two. Dupree dances, so D-Von hits him low, hot tag Bubba. It's BONZO GONZO as everyone hits everything in succession until Grenier tags D-Von with the FLAG OF DOOM for the pin at 5:12. Good match, but too short to be worthwhile. **1/4 They seriously need to get the titles off the French though.

- Backstage, The Rock ARRIVES! He is told he can pick any opponent, and he chooses Kane, oddly enough. Hmmmmm...

- Randy Orton and Triple H vs. Rob Van Dam and Goldust. We find out that both faces have been added to team RAW. Good, they needed to be on the card anyway. RVD beats on Orton to start as the announcers mention the match from last week between the two guys on the apron. Van Dam's enzuigiri gets two. Goldust in with a sliding punch and butt butt for two. HHH lines up and gets a clothesline, but USES THE KNEE~! to make Goldust the face-in-peril. Funny how that works. Trips gets a facebuster for two. Kneedrop gets two. MAIN EVENT SPINEBUSTER gets two. Orton in, and the Play of the Day gets two. RKO is blocked, Goldust hits the powerslam, hot tag RVD. Van Dam kicks anything in a five-foot radius, then hits Rolling Thunder on Orton for two. HHH slams down RVD, but Goldust clotheslines him. Orton takes Shattered Nuts, but RVD gets tossed off the top by HHH, and KICK WHAM PEDIGREE finishes at 8:14. They're not even TRYING to hide the politics anymore, are they? **1/2 Goldberg runs in and gets decked with a sledgehammer. Well, at least Trips should do the job at SummerSlam, right? Right? RIGHT?

- Booker T comes out and talks about his past. He says that he's been fighting people who thought he wouldn't make it to the top for years, and now he's proven them all wrong. He calls out Chris Nowinski and DEMANDS a confrontation TONIGHT. Ah, but Nowinski says that he's honoring the contract and will wait for SummerSlam. Booker chases after him, only to get beat down by the cast of "Rent" and left lying.

- So let's review here. We have Booker T, product of the streets and successful black guy, against Chris Nowinski, Harvard graduate and pretty much the definition of an Ivory Tower resident. Backing Nowinski up are Rodney Mack, Theodore Long, and Jazz, three black people who claim the world is out to get them and believe that Booker T is a symbol of racism. So, behind the leadership of Nowinski, they attack Booker, leading to the visual of a white guy telling three black people to beat up a black guy in the name of racial equality. And the announce team doesn't even NOTICE. If Long weren't such a great heel, this would be BEGGING for Nowinski to get turfed out. Sadly, the likely conclusion is to put the title on home-grown Nowinski over WCW import Booker, because GOD KNOWS Vince McMahon needs a clean-cut white boy to be the poster child for the secondary title. Such a great story and it's going to be ruined. Sigh...

- Goldberg v. Ric Flair. Time of the entrance: 2:38. Time of the match: 1:19. 1/4* HHH makes sure Goldberg doesn't get over or anything.

- Chris Jericho v. Kevin Nash. BUT WAIT! Bischoff announces that Stone Cold never said who the special referee for this would be, so he introduces Randy Orton. Jericho attacks from behind to start, but Nash no-sells and gives Jericho snake eyes for two. To Orton's credit, he isn't fast- or slow-counting yet. Nash beats Jericho down, but Jericho ducks the framed elbow and hits a facejam. Suplex and ARROGANT COVER~! get two. Nash goes for the boot, but Jericho catches his leg and tries the Walls. Nash makes the ropes and bails. Outside, Nash meets the steps. Jericho returns to the ring and tries his springboard dropkick onto Nash as he re-enters, but he legit injures his leg on the liftoff.

- If you'll excuse me, I have to spend the next ten minutes in mourning.

- Okay, I'm done. *sniff*

- Back to the match: Well, we can't count on Nash improvising, and Orton doesn't nearly have the experience to book on the fly, so Nash climbs in and crawls on Jericho for two. We hit the chinlock as all three desperately try to salvage the match. Even Lawler and Coachman note that Jericho might be hurt. Back up, Jericho elbows out and flies at Nash, but eats boot. Poochiebomb is tried, but Orton clips Nash and Jericho falls on top, getting the very fast three at 6:25, about 2:00 of which was after the injury. The announcers are torn between putting over Jericho for his guts and noting that he won cheaply. Orton takes a chair to Nash's leg to give the EMTs a reason to come out and attend both men. Decent Nash match until the leg injury shot everything all to hell. *1/4

- Backstage, the Rock gives a mega-extended promo hitting all his old catchphrases so that Jericho can have time to be helped to the back. Of note: Rock calls Kane the "Kentucky Fried retard" and makes several burn jokes, but when Kevin Kelly tries to inform him of Kane's mental state, Rock just acts like the Rock and keeps cutting him off. It's a good setup, but will they deliver?

- Main event: The Rock vs. Kane. No match, as Kane charges the ring as soon as he's set free of the restraints and beats on Rock six ways from Sunday, using chairs, the ring bell, the steps, and anything else not nailed down. He even beats up a police officer and whacks Rock a few times with a nightstick. FIVE straight Tombstones on a chair finish the slaughter before the cops can subdue Kane long enough to lead him away. They cut the show off early, since I assume they would have Rock do a stretcher job here, but after Jericho's legit injury plans might have changed.

The Bottom Line:

Well, if a show's suffering, get the Rock on it! They now have a ready-made angle for Unforgiven's main event, but the SummerSlam build-up has been ok at best. The Brawl is a nice concept, but it'll depend on how much time it gets. And I dare anyone to claim HHH doesn't play politics after watching his tag match.

Does anyone care who wins the main event? Anyone? At all?

*****

A murmur ran through the roster. Jericho's injury looked bad on TV, and very few people had heard of it. It was clear something was wrong -- his right calf looked like it had bunched up near the top, clearly out of proportion compared to the left.

"It's as bad as it looks, people," said a somber Paul Heyman. "He's flying in for surgery with Dr. Andrews tomorrow. I don't know if he'll ever be the same wrestler he was."

We all paused and thought about it. I realized that Taker had been quite lucky throughout his career. Physically, he hadn't suffered any major injuries. Sure, there was the torn groin muscle, but that was it, really. Even then, he was starting to return to form, slowly but surely. The matches with Austin, RVD, and Cena over the years had been spectacular, and his ability to control a psychotic brawl was never in doubt. I wondered, though, if things would go haywire when Eddie and I got in the ring. Could he brawl with me? Could I match holds with him? What would happen?

"Okay, guys, here's the plan for tonight's show. I want you to listen up. We're going to set up a match for next week on tonight's show. Now, I realize that a lot of you aren't on SummerSlam who would like to be. So we'll give you a tryout tonight. I'm having a four corners tag match, where the winners will face the tag champions next week. I want the FBI, the Bashams, Mattitude, and the APA to meet with Paul after the meeting to discuss particulars. Also, our team for the brawl is going to be Big Show, A-Train, John Cena, Chris Benoit, and myself. We're going against Rob Van Dam, Goldust, Hurricane, Eric Bischoff, and Jericho's injury replacement, whose identity I haven't been told yet. Along those lines, Benoit will qualify for the final spot by beating Rikishi and Rhyno in a triple threat match, while the other three of you will face Brock Lesnar and Kurt Angle in a handicap match for the main event. Meanwhile, I want the two tag teams to split up and do two singles matches. Tell me who faces who and I'll go from there. Finally, Daddy will cost Zach Gowan a match against Jamie Noble, then get in an interview where they set forth the stipulations for their match. Everyone got that? That's the match schedule for tonight. Now, Paul, would you handle the story developments?"

"Sure thing, Steph. Okay, apart from the McMahon/Zach thing, which he's working on right now, we will have a series of vignettes with Michael Cole and Stephanie McMahon. It will be revealed that Cole gets his favor granted, but not what that favor is. Josh, you and Tazz are on tonight. I expect you to hold up your end of the bargain. Meanwhile, Eddie and Taker, you two will be given a segment to build your match up. After that segment, Eddie will attack Taker backstage and yell about keeping the US Title. Is everything clear?"

"Wait, Paul..."

"Yes, Eddie?"

"Does this mean I'm losing at SummerSlam?"

"No. No decision has been made there. We're going to see how everyone's doing before we set the final results. You know that's the drill, Eddie."

As he sat back down, I tapped him on the shoulder.

"The America West Arena is ours from Thursday to Sunday for setup and practice. Meet me Saturday afternoon at 2 o'clock and we'll go over some stuff in the match. Got it?"

"Sure thing, esse."

Paul resumed. "The other segments will be video packages about Zach Gowan against Vince McMahon and Brock Lesnar against Kurt Angle. Are there any questions? Everyone satisfied?"

"One second, Paul. Should we tell you how we're splitting up now?"

"Hang on to that, Rey. After we're done."

"Okay."

"Any questions about tonight or about SummerSlam?"

None. Stephanie resumed control.

"Okay, guys, listen up. We will arrive in Phoenix tomorrow. Our charter leaves at 1:35 PM. I don't want anyone to miss the flight. Got it? You have a fan festival on Thursday at the America West Arena from 9 AM until 6 PM. I want everyone there to sign autographs and be in character. Got it? Now, Friday and Saturday are your days, but be at the Arena on Sunday by 12 Noon local time. The fireworks go off at 5 PM. We are on Pacific Time, remember. I don't want any excuses. All right, guys, let's get ready for tonight."

The meeting adjourned. I headed out to the lobby to put my stuff in Paul's car. As I did, Eddie stopped me.

"Mark?"

"Yeah, Eddie?"

"I'm scared, man. Just don't make me look bad."

"Eddie..."

"Yeah?"

"Me too. Help me out there."

*****

We were in the conference room. The Joe Louis Arena was just outside. Kathleen was lying on the table, spread out. Lindsay and I sat next to each other at one end. Paul was on the other end.

"Guys, I know last week was rough. Both of you had a hard time, and I'm sorry it happened. I just wanna remind you that this week, you have to be on your guard. We can't have everyone freak out."

"Why this week in particular, Mr. Heyman?"

"Because it's Summerslam. The whole roster is going to be together in the back. There will be difficulties, I assure you. I need you in your role -- and you in yours, Andy -- to help us keep order backstage. You two are seen as locker room leaders. Don't add to the trouble."

"What about me?"

"Lindsay, you're going to be backstage doing interviews, announcing, and so on. You'll be too busy. It's too bad in a way that you are where you are now, because I could use an experienced hand to guide things. Hopefully the RAW guys will be on top of things."

"That reminds me, Mr. Heyman -- who are the RAW guys?"

"I don't know."

"No, no, no -- I think Kathleen means, who are the Fallen Angels over there? As in, will she meet them? I can handle this."

"Okay, Lindsay."

"Kathleen, we're not supposed to bring our glasses in with us to SummerSlam weekend. Basically, now that we all know who we are, I think it's best if we just be ourselves. This is a chaotic weekend, and more so than any other, we have to be in secret. Remember, Kathleen: they must not know that we're here at all."

"At all? But I'm front and center!"

"I know you are. But you can't let your guard down. You have to stay in character all the time. If you need a break, find Paul and he'll take you to here. You got lucky this week. You and Paul can sneak off here any time, and people will just assume you're discussing booking."

"Actually, Lindsay... um... it was more than luck."

"What do you mean, Paul?"

"Well, I prayed that she would get Stephanie this week."

"What?"

"Why, Mr. Heyman? You know I can't--"

"Kathleen, please. I did this for just the reason Lindsay said. I know you get nervous a lot and need time off. Last week, how often did we come here to cool our jets?"

"Every day."

"Exactly. But you can't do that this week. We could barely do it last week. And haven't there been times when I've told you to tough it out for a while?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay... but you don't have to get tough love this week. If you want time to be yourself, just find me and I'll drop you off here for a while. It's easy."

"Thank you."

Paul started to get up. "Come on, guys, we got a show to get to."

"Hang on, Paul..." I put a hand on Lindsay's shoulder as I spoke. "...we'll be out in a second.... if that's okay?"

"Well, it is. This room's off the clock. But don't take too long... we can't mess up your sleep cycle, especially yours, old man."

He winked. Kathleen and Paul left the room. As the door closed, Lindsay turned to me.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I just wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah? What about?"

"Well, I kinda feel a little silly right now... especially bout yesterday."

"Yesterday? Andy, nothing happened yesterday. Is this about bailing out? You did the right thing."

"No, no... I was just thinking about our conversation in there. Especially... the last couple of lines..." This is going to sound weird no matter what.

"I don't remember them. What were they?"

"Well, I said that you were a wonderful person... even in two parts. It was kinda corny, I know, but... well, Lindsay, I..."

"Andy, stop right now. This can't do us any good."

"What?"

"Andy, I noticed it the first day together. I know how you feel. I mean, I'm flattered, but the fact is right now we're in no position to be distracted like that."

"Distracted? We're in the conference room. We can be us, right?"

She didn't answer. She simply looked away, as if trying to find a far-off memory

somewhere.

"Lindsay? What is it?"

"We can't always be us, even here. We can still fade, or be destroyed. I don't want to tempt you, especially since it put you in Recovery last time."

"But that wasn't me. That was John Cena! Come on, Lindsay, why can't we just talk about it? I just wanna know how you feel."

She said nothing. She seemed almost paralyzed by the emotion. Oh no... what have I done?

"Lindsay? Is something wrong?"

"It's not you. I'm just remembering another guy."

"From your life?"

"No. From here."

"I don't understand."

"Andy, you're a great guy. You were wonderful to me last week. I like you. I can't deny that. But I don't want to risk anything else, because you'll end up like... like he did."

"Who? Like who?"

"It was someone else on the case. This had to be five, six years ago -- they all blur together. No, wait, I'm sure it was early 97, actually. We had been asking our intermediary to give us time alone -- like now. We spent more and more time together. We fell in love. Not who we were, but US -- WE fell in love. It was wonderful."

"So what happened?"

"We wanted to share our love somehow. We tried faking fading at the same time, but with me... well, you know... we just couldn't get romantic. Then one week I woke up and found I was Tammy... Sunny. It was the first time I had been a woman since we realized we were in love. I searched him out. Now was the perfect time."

"So what was wrong with that?"

"We couldn't be married! Marriage is an earthly thing, not a spiritual one! The next morning, I put on my glasses and found myself lying next to a regular person instead of the guy I fell in love with. I looked at myself and I was barely there. I got dressed and ran out immediately. I had to spend a month in Recovery for that. I destroyed him... and I nearly destroyed myself too. I don't know why I was spared... I've asked for answers, but no one has any."

"Sunny Days."

"What?"

"Nothing, I was just--"

"No, it's all right, I heard. Yes, he was Bret Hart. The rumors were true. Another Angel let it slip while he was Shawn Michaels. He got transferred immediately, but it was too late. Everyone knew, and Bret's anger still burns today."

"Oh, my. So you..."

"With one act, I may have left two people in Hell. It's something I have to live with."

She bent over and put her face in her hands. I was at a loss for words. I touched her shoulder and stood there. The seconds seemed to tick away, even though I knew we weren't within time. She tried to regain her composure.

"Andy?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't ever want that to happen to you. Just promise me -- promise me you won't let it come to that."

I took a deep breath. I never thought I was opening a can of worms by talking about this. I just wanted to express my feelings in a safe environment. Well, now I have... and I wish I hadn't. All I did was hurt her again.

"Trust me, Lindsay. I love you to much to put you at risk. I want you to be with me always in Heaven... I wouldn't dare keep you out."

"Thank you..."

"Lindsay... are you saying you... that you..."

"No. Not yet. We've only known each other a few weeks. And I don't think you truly love me either. But I think you're a great guy. I want you to know that. I'm just scared you'll do something you'll regret."

"Thanks."

We hugged.

"Come on, let's go."

[The Third Dukes]

You know, part of the problem of doing this as a serial (meaning revealing the story in installments) is that some chapters seem to be placeholders, lost in the shuffle. Of course, back in Victorian times, your highly successful writers could pull this off and still maintain interest, but then again, not even I am egomaniacal enough to compare myself to friggin' Charles Dickens.

Besides, he got paid.

Well, this chapter is two posts as a result. Deal.

The first one expands on the Taker/Eddie story by showing how things went down between the two of them on SmackDown!. By this time, it was clear that -- as far as the readers were concerned -- this match would make or break the diary. Did it hold up? You'll have to wait and see.

I'm also including Axxess weekend in here, as a way to show how chaotic the typical wrestling locker room is. Not that I know, but I can imagine. And that's what matters, dammit!

A lot of storylines also began at this section. Chavo Guerrero's knowledge of the lucha past was actually a way for me to show off how much research I had done, and to establish something I had read in Heel Turn's sig about wrestling. (For the record, I disagree with "in America, it's a joke." In America, it's good television -- people like Rock, Hogan, Austin, Flair, etc., have shown that wrestlers can legitimately act. I will contend to my dying day that Hogan could have hit it big in Hollywood if he had had the same movie roles the Rock did. Hogan's movies were all directed to kids, and as such, seemed like crap. Rock, meanwhile, is allowed to be a true action star. It's a matter of right place, wrong time. But I digress.)

You also see the hinting of a Hogan return here. Since the diary began, I had a feeling that Hogan's Mr. America thing was actually the beginning of a long-term relationship, and that Hogan still had something to contribute. I decided to make Hogan a more mellow, responsible, secure individual after all the nWo bullcrap he pulled. Of course, the real Hogan has shown how comfortable he is by basically never working again. Whatever. I was a Hulkamaniac when I first watched wrestling, so I wanted to make the guy cool. You got a problem with that, go read someone else's diary.

The Taker/Kane segment wound up not going anywhere -- by the time WrestleMania rolled around, Taker was injured and Kane was programmed in another match -- but it's amusing because in August of 2003, I predicted a Taker/Kane return match. Fast forward to WrestleMania XX and see that it happened. Huh.

Torrie and Kidman? That was me having fun, but also me establishing that the two had a "newlywed" feel about their marriage. Despite the trials of the road, and knowing that a lot of relationships would come and go in the story, I felt they would remain strong. After all, she fell for him when he was nothing and has used her pull to keep him on the payroll, so she loves him truly. And I don't think we need to ask about Kidman

The Taker's debut in November 1990 is one I remember watching live on PPV. I didn't sleep well until Paul Bearer arrived a few months later and added a softer side to him (more cartoonish, if you will). But I wanted to discuss the entrance, because it's one of the few times a quiet crowd was a good thing.

The final SummerSlam 2003 card, by the way, is this:

RAW:

* HHH © vs. Goldberg, World Title

* Booker T © vs. Chris Nowinski, Intercontinental Title

* La Résistance © vs. Dudley Boyz, World Tag Titles

* Randy Orton vs. Kevin Nash

SmackDown!:

* Kurt Angle © vs. Brock Lesnar, WWE Heavyweight Title (with a heel turn impending from one or the other)

* Eddie Guerrero © vs. Undertaker, WWE US Title

* World's Greatest Tag Team © vs. Billy Kidman and Rey Misterio, WWE Tag Team Titles, ladder match

* Vince McMahon vs. Zach Gowan, "Double or Nothing" match

And the Inter-Promotional Brawl:

RAW: Hurricane, Rob Van Dam, Goldust, Eric Bischoff, and an injury replacement

SD!: John Cena, Big Show, A-Train, Chris Benoit, and Stephanie McMahon

I have no idea if the card was worth the $34.95 coming in. And you'll have to see if it was worth it coming out.

*****

Chapter 10

Desert Countdown

Tuesday, August 19, 2003, 07:14 PM

Detroit, MI

I waited in the locker room for Eddie. Outside, I could hear Stephanie and Paul going over last-minute additions to the card. In one corner, Brock and Kurt were discussing their match with Big Show. Elsewhere, other people stretched out and loosened up, ready for the last event before we all headed to Phoenix.

"Mark... sorry I'm late."

"Oh, hey Eddie. You ain't late. I just wanted to see if you were ready, man."

"Yeah... about tonight... what do we say?"

Good point. What DO we say?

"Eddie... I'm not the kind of guy who needs to know everything in advance. Just let me start, and you can follow up. If we can't work off of each other... well, I'd be damn surprised."

"You believe?"

"I do. Now c'mon, Eddie... I hear they want us in the parking lot for a little something."

"Oh yeah... let's go."

*****

07:31 PM

"All right, Mark, listen up."

It was Kevin Dunn, doing double duty as production co-ordinator for both SmackDown! and RAW. He was giving last minute instructions to both of us on what to do during the sketch. Trouble is, we were 50 feet away from each other and on moving vehicles. I had no idea how this would come off.

"Mark, here's the drill. You're going to be headed out of here when Eddie cuts you off. The two of you get in an argument, then he fakes smoothing it over until you turn around. Cheap shot, belt shot, drive off. Got it?"

"Easy."

He grabbed his megaphone. "You ready down there, Guerrero?"

A honk came back.

"He's ready. Okay, guys, quiet on the set... places... and... ACTION!"

I drove up on the bike. I was cruising along as the Lo Rider sped in front of me. I slammed on the brakes and nearly tumbled off of the bike. I got off and set up the kickstand.

"Hey, man, what's your problem?"

"Oh, Taker, sorry man... I didn't see you. I guess I should give a legend more room, eh?"

"Don't patronize me, boy. Just watch yourself. You got that?"

"Yes, sir, yes, Undertaker..."

"That's better."

I turned around to get back onto the bike. As I flipped up the kickstand, I felt a blow from the back of my head. I tumbled forward, but I was already tangled in the bike. I crashed over and moaned in pain.

"Oh, shit... Mark? Mark, you ok?"

"Cut!"

Eddie ran towards me. He seemed genuinely upset.

"Mark, Mark... you ok brother?"

"Dammit, I'm fine. I was selling."

"What?"

Kevin ran into the scene.

"Everything all right?"

"Yeah, Kev... I just caught him off-guard, that's all."

He sighed audibly. "All right... ok, let's do it again, Take 2! Places!"

*****

09:22 PM

Dead Man Walkin'!

I emerged from the back on my motorcycle to a cheering crowd at the Joe Louis Arena. I raised my fist to them, accepting their cheers, although at the same time I heard some people booing me. While lapping the ring, I heard a "Taker" chant grow louder and louder. I thought I heard Tazz mention that the Undertaker would always have his fans. I entered the ring and hit my poses, to the delight of the crowd. Okay, buddy, mic's on, we're playin' live... don't mess this up.

"Now, people who know me know that I'm not a man of talk. I believe in settling differences with an old-fashioned fight. Recently, I've had my differences with that punk Eddie Guerrero."

The crowd cheered and booed, both loudly.

"Yeah, I know... some of you, you think he's got a point. You see him out here, and he wears his gameplan on his sleeve. Ya know what? I admire that. I respect a guy who lets you know how he's gonna beat you, then beats you anyway. But I don't respect an attitude. Eddie, I don't know how things are down in Mexico, but here in the WWE, you gotta earn your stripes before you roar like a tiger. And Eddie, I don't see you earning a damn thing with your attitude."

I paused for a second crowd reaction. The cheers were getting louder, but so were the boos. One thing was certain -- the crowd liked it.

"Eddie, if you wanna impress me, don't talk about being a champion -- I've been a champion more times than you've been in title matches. I've held 12 pieces of gold around my waist, boy. I've been to the top of the #1 organization on this planet. Now I think you can get there, but if you think beating me is the way to it, then this Sunday at SummerSlam, I'll give you a rude awakening. I'll show you..."

Viva la Raza!

Eddie Guerrero emerged -- walking, for once -- as the crowd again gave the loudest mixed reaction I had heard. I began to think his time was soon. He walked past my motorcycle, giving it a perfunctory kick on the way. He strolled into the ring and played to the crowd. I made sure to shoot him an icy stare for disrespecting my bike. He got a second microphone, and the fun really began.

"Undertaker, man... you like to talk about your past a lot, don't you? You like to live in the past, esse. Well, guess what, bro... that's because you are the past. You have no future in this business! I'm the next generation's prototype, Taker. I am the man that 20 years from now will be seen as the trendsetter! You may have a lot to talk about when it comes to your success, but it's all in one place! I've done it all, baby! I've done more than you can begin to imagine!"

"Stop right there, Eddie. Just stop. Don't you know who I am? I am a 4-time World heavyweight champion. I'm on the short list of Undisputed heavyweight champions in history. I was selling out arenas while you were still setting up rings. I was headlining Pay-Per-View events while you were still a nobody making a living off your daddy's name down in Mexico. I'm a living legend, Eddie. I ain't gonna let anyone steal my thunder."

"You think I'm worried about your thunder? You think I'm worried about the Undertaker's reputation? I didn't win this title here on reputation, bro. I won it in the ring! And you may not like how I won it, but you gotta understand... as long as I have it, I'm not losing to some over-the-hill has-been like you! Yeah... you can ride a Harley to the ring and act all macho, but at the end of the day, you're still an old has-been trying to cling to glory with everything he's got!"

I stared at the crowd for a while. This is my moment in the sun, and I'm milking it for all it's worth, man.

"Am I? Is that all you see here? Well, tell ya what, Eddie... bring it at SummerSlam. Put your gold where your mouth is. When all is said and done, I don't see you walking away with anything more than a beating. But hey... you wanna try me? You wanna step in my yard? You wouldn't be the first to see I can still bring it. And I guarantee you won't be the last."

We began an uneasy staredown. We posed for the cameras and the promotional videos. Eddie was a foot shorter than I was, so I made sure to keep my distance. I thought I heard Lindsay, in her role as Josh Matthews, going into hype mode, asking if the Guerrero legend would reach the highest level at SummerSlam. I waited.

"You want a piece of me? Undertaker, I don't back down from NO ONE! I'll see you at SummerSlam. And when I'm done, esse... you'll be left with a new understanding that you were... and I am!"

Eddie's music began again. He walked off as I stared at him. He pointed to the US Title belt and kissed it. "This ain't never leaving my side!" he screamed. I merely shook my head. I was hoping to convey what I was sure people were thinking at home: Eddie just doesn't know what he's getting into.

*****

10:45 PM

I was packing my stuff up and heading for the parking lot when I ran across Eddie's nephew, Chavo Guerrero. His arm still in a sling, he looked like an average human and not the WWE superstar who helped propel SmackDown! to the spot where the wrestling was. He pulled me aside to speak. I gulped.

"Hey, Taker... um, Uncle Eddie won't say this, but... uh... I gotta tell ya..."

"Yeah? What is it, Chav?"

"Well... he had the time of his life out there. He's ready for Sunday."

"That's wonderful!"

"But one thing... just for me, uh... you know, he's been getting a lot of calls and letters from home, and from the boys in lucha."

I chuckled. "They're looking forward to this, huh?"

"Well, yeah, but... they kinda see him as their biggest star. They want him to be the man in the WWE, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah... we all want our friends to do well."

"No, no, you miss my point... see, he thinks he has to look good. He feels like it's not just for himself, but all of Mexico. I mean, he looks at what he's done, and how he's cheated all the time, and he's worried he's making his people look bad to get money. But... if he can go all out, and come out smelling like a rose, against the Undertaker... a US icon..."

"I think I get it, Chavo. He feels if I beat him, he'll let his country down."

"Yeah... so he's been going kinda crazy, man. He's been on a short fuse, you know? I keep telling him, man, don't think too much of it, you know, Grandpa's legacy is set, the family's legacy is set... but he doesn't believe it. He thinks he can be El Santo or Mil Mascaras with a big win. You know, up with them."

I blanked.

"You know who they are, right?"

"I've... heard of the names. Wasn't Santo a B-movie star?"

"Yeah, but he got that by being the most popular luchador in history! You know how Rey never wears his mask down there? That's because the mask is your symbol! When you lose it, it stays lost, and when you first lose it, it's the biggest defeat in Mexican wrestling. Well, ol' Santo never lost it. Ever. This is like you never losing at WrestleMania, only ten times bigger. The man went everywhere with it. He was buried in it, man!"

"Okay... and I met Mil before... he was a cocky little..."

"Because in Mexico, he earned that right! And that's the right Uncle Eddie wants. He really thinks he can be the biggest crossover name in lucha libre! And as far as he's concerned, this is his litmus test. You know how many people say he'll be an icon if he wins?"

"You're kiddin', right? I've heard the boys in the back. They love the guy."

"Taker, it's more than that. It's more than respect. This is the moment of truth for him. He wants this to be the thing that makes him a superstar."

"Really... is that so?"

"Yeah! And he'd never tell you this, but... like I said, he's under pressure, and... well, do you think you can help him along?"

"Chavo, I already wanna help him along."

"You do?"

"Yeah. For too long I've been concerned with how I look onscreen. I've been through so much I thought I had to grab power by the short hairs and make it beg for mercy! But at the same time... I dunno... Do you get me?"

"Kinda... but please, Taker... just so you know what he's facing."

"I understand, man. Thanks."

"No... thank you."

He walked away. So now I not only have to make Eddie Guerrero realize his anger is unfounded and that there's more to life than being in the ring, I gotta watch out for an entire country watching at home on Pay-Per-View.

Damn.

*****

Thursday, August 21, 2003, 08:59 AM

Phoenix, AZ

"Welcome - to - AXXESS!"

With those words, the doors opened to the general public, and it was time to make ourselves celebrities. I was seated next to Chris Benoit at an autograph table, where we were scheduled to be for the next three hours. The crowd buzzed with the thought of having the stars of RAW and SmackDown! back together for the first time in three months.

Axxess was quite a sight. There were games and activities almost everywhere. You could pay money to get merchandise, or you could do a broadcast with a WWE voice. Autographs flowed from pens like wine from a bottle. There was even a running WWE.com camera where Dr. Tom Pritchard and Kevin Kelly interviewed the stars.

I tried to keep myself focused, but I found myself looking around for Eddie. I wanted to talk about our match. Vince had approached me last night and told me I was booked to win. I refused, saying it would be better to hold off the final victory until No Mercy. Vince gave me a sideways glance as if to tell me this was unlike me, then said he'd take it under advisement. I could only imagine what he told Eddie, and I wanted to reassure him I'd stood up for him.

*****

01:15 PM

With my tour of duty on Axxess complete, and my fluff interview with Kevin and the Doctor going on the site, I decided now was as good a time as any to take time off backstage. The McMahons set up a place for us to talk about our matches or to escape the fans. Personally, I just wanted to walk back there and order lunch.

I entered the door and went up to the counter. After receiving some good old-fashioned spicy Tex-Mex cuisine, I tried to sit back at the table and enjoy it. The noise of the outside was far away, replaced by the familiar clanging of pots, pans, utensils, and minimum wage employees. At the table down the way, Dean Malenko and Bruce Prichard were sharing old road stories. That's my future -- well, his future.

The door opened. John Cena was excited, almost out of breath. He turned to me immediately, a look of fear and surprise in his system. "Man... she's here."

"Who?"

"That girl from Toronto. She won't leave me alone!"

"The groupie? She's here now?"

"Yeah... I didn't know she had tickets here."

"Well, what are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know... but this is one problem I'm glad I have!"

"Hey, John? A little advice. Don't encourage her."

"Noooooo need there, Taker." He winked as he headed to the lunch counter. Oh dear. What have I gotten him into?

*****

02:33 PM

I headed back out to Axxess for a while. If this is a celebration, then I want a part of it! I wandered over to a section of cardboard cut-outs. The sign said "How Big are the WWE Superstars?" I looked at each one. Wow. These must be kinda short, cuz I'm pretty much the same height as their Undertaker. Oh, wait...

Suddenly, the crowd around me seemed to grow quiet. It wasn't my presence -- they had been asking me for autographs just minutes earlier, and I was happy to oblige. I looked around. There, standing behind me, was a giant of a man. He was nearly my height -- no small feat -- and wore a bright red outfit. But the most striking thing was his face. It was entangled in a permanent snarl, with eyes that could barely be seen through and a bright bald head resembling that of a man doomed to the electric chair. In this setting, he looked dangerous. In reality, I knew he was harmless.

I walked over to him. His eyes never left mine. Flashbulbs went off everywhere. I was pretty certain someone was taping this for the Heat pre-show. Neither one of us talked. We just stared. Finally, I let out a smirk.

"Bro", I said, speaking to Glen Jacobs -- Kane -- "what's gotten into you, man?"

He kept staring forward, then spoke, but in a whispered roar, almost like someone trying to hold back while still showing the hatred. "You did this to me! I should destroy you now!"

Some of the younger fans were shrieking to their parents. The older ones were bracing for a fight. I stood my ground.

"Go look at yourself in a mirror," I said, trying to remain calm. "What I did to you isn't a problem any more. And if you don't like it -- well, put the damn mask back on. But don't go blaming me."

"Accept me! Accept the man you tried to destroy!"

We stared. Fans could sense the electricity. I saw Vince out of the corner of my eye. He was smiling gleefully. He could sense the dollar signs. I think he's found a match for WrestleMania.

Before anything could happen, I saw a squadron of men in blue come up behind Kane. They grabbed his arms and tried to wrestle him to the ground. I took advantage of the situation and walked on. This wasn't the time or the place to further this feud. That would be later.

*****

03:48 PM

"Taker, man... whaddya think of Vince's match?"

It was Malenko. He had met me backstage to make sure I got the word.

"What's the plan?"

"Well, right now they're saying there's going to be a ton of run-ins. Basically, no-DQ, refs getting tossed all over the place... and there's a big ending Vince won't fill me in on. Of course, with the stakes so high, I'm not surprised."

"What stakes? It's just Zach's contract."

"Weren't you there?"

"I wasn't paying much attention. I had vignettes to film. What do you mean?"

"The other end of the Double or Nothing. Zach said he wanted to repay the favor to the man who got him his contract."

The man... who got him... wait...

"Hogan?"

"Yeah! If Zach wins, Hulk Hogan's reinstated with full wrestling rights and responsibilities!"

"B...b...Hogan doesn't work here!"

"Not yet he doesn't. I hear they're talking to him right now. The deal could be worked out by Sunday."

"And if it isn't?"

"Well... they'll just send Zach off to OVW for a few months."

"Wow. That's huge."

"Yeah, it is. I don't know which way they're goin' with it. Just that they want a lot of people involved."

"Like me."

"Yeah... talk to Vince tomorrow. He'll fill you in."

"Thanks, Dean."

Hulk Hogan. Some people just don't go away.

*****

04:29 PM

I was tired. I'd practically been on my feet all day. If the next three days were anything like this, I would be in bad shape for my match. I was almost planning on sleeping in Friday -- but obviously, Vince's plan changed everything. Now, I was just hoping for some time alone. I walked to the backstage area.

As I sat there, I contemplated the emptiness of the place. No one else was sitting down. The lunch people had long since left for the day. Everyone else was having too much fun outside. I was alone with my thoughts.

At least, I thought I was.

Then I heard a funny noise. It was coming from a door on the other side of the room. It sounded like giggling and whispering. I inched closer to the door. I couldn't quite make out the voices, but it sounded suspicious. No one's allowed back there. Those could be thieves.

I listened closer. There was a lot of rustling around. I distinctly heard a zipper being opened. A female voice -- a familiar one, though not immediately placeable due to the thickness of the door -- said, "What have we here?" and laughed. Thieves! They're going to steal proceeds from the show! I gotta act fast. Unless they're armed, no way they'll wanna mess with me.

I pounded on the door. The voices became more frantic. I heard a lot of rumbling around back there. I knocked again. The female voice yelled, "Just a minute!" Now I know I've heard it before...

The door opened. Torrie Wilson answered.

"Oh, it's just you... I thought it might've been Vince..." she laughed. Meanwhile, Kidman was busy putting his shirt back on. It didn't take me long to figure out what was going on. I smiled.

"Just save it for the hotel room, kids. You try in public, and you will get busted."

"But... but we weren't doing..." she blushed... "Okay, fine." She giggled and pranced out. Kidman was by now back in his uniform and heading for the exit as well. He stopped and looked at me.

"You had to interrupt, didn't you?"

I just stared. Guys, you're lucky you weren't arrested! I'm not the bad guy here!

*****

05:37 PM

I found Eddie. He was over by his Lo Rider, which he said the WWE would auction off on its website. He saw me and immediately got into character.

"Hey, esse... what you doin' here, homes? Ain't it past your bedtime, old man?"

I got in on the act. "Don't piss me off, Eddie. I'm comin for ya."

Eddie turned it up a notch. "Oh yeah? I'm so scared of a has-been like you!"

I charged. Security stepped in between us. We yelled randomly at each other as we tried to fight our way through the blue shirts. The crowd cheered rabidly. Several "Taker" and "Eddie" chants started. I hope Vince is listening.

"I'll see you on Sunday, esse!"

"It'll be your funeral!"

*****

Friday, August 22, 2003, 04:55 PM

Vince called us all into the meeting. Seated around the table were myself, Brock, Kurt, Show, A-Train, Stephanie, Paul, Cole, Tazz, Matthews, Zach, referees Brian Hebner, Tim White, Jack Doan, and Mike Chioda, and Vince. Vince was, of course, at the head of the table, with Paul and Stephanie on either side.

"Gentlemen... and lady... I bring you here to discuss my match with Zach Gowen on Sunday. Now, as you may have heard, it will be no disqualification. That means, of course, that I want for there to be maximum involvement. The referee will be taken out of commission, as will many referees during the night. The ones that aren't won't want to take part. But there will be a finish. Trust me. Now, as for the wrestlers, all of you are to run in. I'll let Paul decide on the order as he sees fit. The key is this: all of you are to cancel each other out. I want the finish to be as chaotic as possible, but in the end, I want the win to be picked up by either my or Zach's individual effort. Is that clear?"

We all nodded.

"Now, I want to go over some of the procedure for your individual matchups. Big Show, A-Train... the two of you are in the Inter-Promotional Brawl with Stephanie. It's your responsibility to make sure she doesn't get hurt in there. She's my daughter, and I've put a lot of love and time and effort into her. I don't want anything destroyed."

I noticed something as he spoke. He was looking in Stephanie's direction -- sort of. Is he... where are his eyes... he isn't... gross!

"Now, Brock and Kurt. I'm going to be involved in your match. You know the drill there -- just like X-7. I hope I don't need to go into any more details."

"No, sir. Everything is fine."

"You sure this is going to work?"

"Yes I am. Your heel turn is going to go over really well."

Ahhhhh... so that's when they're doing it.

"Now, as for you, Undertaker... you requested against a win over Eddie Guerrero. I gave you time to formulate a good reason. What is it?"

This was my turn. I had 60 seconds to convince Mr. McMahon that I could do better than his plan. Would he even listen? Was he just humoring me?

"Well, Vince, I've been listening to the fans. They're cheering Eddie Guerrero on like crazy now. I think we can't help but have him be a cool heel type -- almost a face. And my match -- well, we each got our own fans, and this is a breakthrough opportunity for Eddie fans to be vindicated. Basically, what I'm saying is, it doesn't help anyone to have me win the US Title, but it does Eddie a world of good without harming me to have him defeat me, however the result. Do you understand?"

"I see... are you sure you want to go through with this?"

"Well... I don't think it has to end here, Vince. See, Eddie's been telling me that he's getting a lot of fan mail from Mexico. They see this as the epic encounter of a lifetime. A top US wrestling icon against a top Mexican wrestling icon... it's money in the bank! I just don't think we need to stop the feud yet. I'd like to keep working with him."

"Really? Because we had plans for you after SummerSlam..."

"Would it ruin too many things to have me keep up with him?"

"No. I guess not. Paul, I want you to work on an inconclusive finish. There can be a winner, but I wanna set up a rematch."

"Yes, sir."

Paul smiled at me as he wrote it down. I think I just did good.

*****

Saturday, August 23, 2003

02:15 PM

Eddie's car was situated in the aisleway. The two of us were going through the motions in the ring. Eddie looked into my eyes and stopped.

"Somethin' wrong, man? You don't seem your usual self right now."

"Well, Eddie, I'm... worried."

"Why's that?"

"I talked to Vince... I'm trying to get our match set for a rematch, but I haven't heard from Paul yet. I hope he has a good plan."

"Well, I'm sure things will be fine, Taker. You didn't work for him back in the day. The man can deliver."

"I hope so. Cuz I don't wanna look too bad out there."

"Me neither, man. But... dude... you're the Undertaker. You got nothing to worry bout, do you?"

I sighed and slumped in the corner.

"Eddie, c'mere a sec."

He sat down next to me.

"I've seen tons of people come and go in this organization. Every time a new guy arrives, he brings this air of excitement to him. After a while, it dies off, and he becomes another guy. Sometimes you get lucky and you remain special. Look at Brock Lesnar. Sometimes, you get a renaissance after being a nothing. Look at HHH. Sometimes you just remain another in a long line of freaks inside this circus. But I know that when you first get here, people like you, and when you stay too long, people grow tired of you.

I never thought the Phenom would take off like it did. I guess there was something about me... the way I stood unfazed against any and all offense, or the way I could send a chill into someone's spine just by looking at them. I remember my first appearance, up in Hartford. The crowd was dead silent, but I saw their faces. It was a good silence.

But you see, that was 13 years ago. In thirteen years I ain't never left this company. I've stayed with Vince through everything. Hell, I had every reason to leave at times. While you were tearing up ECW with Malenko, I was programmed against some worthless wrestlers who couldn't fight their way out of a paper bag after five minutes. I was the biggest star they had -- not just in my eyes -- but Shawn and Bret had Vince's ear. Now I don't blame them, but it made me upset, you know?

When I roared out on the bike for the very first time, with the American Badass theme playing -- I was a new man. I thought I could survive on my name and my legend. But times aren't like that anymore. I hear the whispers. The experts are telling me to step aside. The boys in the back think I play politics. I try to be a locker room leader, but you know what I sound like. I don't wanna be seen as selfish. But when Vince tells someone to put me over, they don't question it."

"Wait... Mark... so why did you fight for me?"

"Why? Because you're my superior. You started before I did. You've been all around the world. People root for you on four different continents. You're... you're a legend. I respect that. You had the hard road up."

"Nah, man... it wasn't like that. I have a home in lucha. If everything else fell apart, and I was blackballed from the WWE, I could always go to Mexico and earn a king's living there. Mi padre, Gory, bless him, didn't want us to live on his existence. So after I had done a year or so down there, I went to Japan to finish my craftwork. This is my life as much as it is yours. I don't want you to do anything for me. I want to earn respect on my own."

"No... I don't buy that."

"What do you mean, esse?"

"You may want to earn my respect, but I saw how you've been behaving. You're paranoid that you don't have it. Well, I'm telling you, you do have it. And tomorrow, you'll see how strong it is. I promise. Now, you wanna continue?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Wait up, guys..."

It was Paul. He walked to the ring with a purpose. In his hand was a set of papers. He stopped at the car and began to look over the notes.

"Okay, guys, here's the deal. Vince wants this match to be memorable enough to make the fans want more. I got a plan along those lines. Eddie, you'll have some rubbing alcohol hidden in the back seat of the car. Mark, during the match, you two spill to the outside, and Eddie will spit the stuff in your eyes."

"Ew! What if I swallow it, Paul?"

"It'll be water, Eddie. Come on. Anyway, Mark, you stagger around for a while, then walk to the referee. We'll play that you can't tell one guy from another, and you give the ref -- lesseee -- Brian Hebner -- a tombstone, got it?"

"Okay... is he fine with that?"

"Yeah, he trusts you. That'll put the ref out of commission, and you two can go anywhere you want."

"You mean -- we get crowd duty?"

"That's right, Eddie. Now, Vince is giving you a bit of time for this, so don't let him down."

"How about my dive, Paul? Thought of that?"

"Actually, yes. I wanna show you something. Come here."

We exited the ring. Paul went to the front of the car.

"See this, Mark? The roof is going to be made of stunt metal. It'll give really easily. And the glass will be candy glass. No problems there. See, what Vince had in mind was..."

"Wait... are you saying that's my landing area?"

"Yup. You come off the top rope -- walk it if you have to -- and try to dive on or at a prone Eddie. He moves out of the way, and you wipe out the front of the car in the process."

I hesitated.

"Can you do that?"

"No, that's not it... it's that... I don't want my stuff to be the reason people remember this match."

"Wait, I got it..."

"Yeah, Eddie?"

"You know how there's gonna be a crow's nest up there?"

"Yeah..."

"Listen to this..."

And we proceeded to plan out stunt after wild stunt, trying to be the show-stealer of the night.

*****

Sunday, August 24, 2003, 04:45 PM

Phoenix, AZ

We all gathered in the back. A dozen writers were shouting a dozen things into their microphones. The area was total chaos. Out in the ring section, Rodney Mack and Garrison Cade were having the warmup match. All six announcers were at their places. Billy Kidman and Charlie Haas were preparing a series of ladders for inclusion in their match, in a stipulation added on Heat. I was alone in the back.

"Hey, God... if you can hear me... I just wanted to ask you to lemme do a good job tonight. I think I can get Eddie to be good again. But I gotta show him he can trust me. Now, I only got one shot in this body left. I'm so close. Please, God... let me do my best, and help me make him look like a million bucks. I wanna do my job the best I can. Thank you."

I crossed myself and stood up. I walked to the camera crew, who was ready to shoot film of me shadow boxing in preparation for the match with Guerrero. As I did so, I saw Vince approaching out of the corner of my eye.

"Taker... I just wanna say good luck out there, and... put on a good show."

"Sure, Vince... you know I don't let ya down."

"Yeah, but... well, I'm just worried about putting Eddie over too much."

"Why's that?"

"Well, don't tell anyone I said this, but... I don't think the little bastard's got it in him to be a star. The fans won't accept him, cuz he's not like them."

"What the hell do you mean, Vince?"

"Well, I mean... he's not WWE material. The guy's a Mexican legend, but that shit doesn't fly in America. Let him do his gymnastics elsewhere. You just make sure he knows his place around here."

I started to understand his message. He didn't like Eddie because he was small, athletic, and Hispanic. This was unacceptable.

"Vince... I've been your man for goin' on 13 years here, and I haven't ever done something that was bad for business. I ain't about to start now. He and I want to go till No Mercy, and I wanna make sure you get the buyrate. Now, if you'll excuse me, I got a promotional shot to take. Please, Vince. Give Eddie a shot. He may just be the right guy."

Vince bit his tongue. I could tell he wasn't used to being contradicted. He started to storm off, then paused. He turned around.

"Dammit, Mark... you've been good to me. Don't screw this up. I want you to be the man. If you can't have the US title, make sure that runt gets the beating of his life."

"Vince... we ok'ed a rematch, didn't we?"

"This is my company. Now, I want you to produce."

He walked off. All my planning may just go for naught. How do I make him trust me and make Vince like the results? And does it matter? We're live. What can he do if I make him look good? I don't know.

I threw punches into the air. The camera light came on, and the camera panned left, away from the shadows and toward me. After a few jabs and uppercuts, I pulled my straps up and walked to the dressing room.

I arrived as the opening credits rolled.

[The Third Dukes]

Showtime. At the time, this diary had been pinned completely out of nowhere by TGC because he really liked it. So this show was front and center in the Diary Dome. Not that I needed the extra pressure -- believe it or not, I've been told I'm my own biggest critic. (Must be the Virching...) However, I would like to think this show actually delivered.

You are going to see it divvied into three "hours". All four of the Crossover PPVs were divided into hours like this, and odds are when SummerSlam rolls around again, I might do it that way again, so that I can put together complete video packages. I'll post them as is now, unranted on and unedited. They will be... what's the concept here?... wordy.

And hopefully, they will be good.

*****

Chapter 11

SummerSlam

August 24, 2003, 5:00 PM

Phoenix, AZ

The FBI warning flashed onto the screen. Right after it came darkness... then...

A series of clips appear with St. Anger playing in the background. They show HHH staring at the sledgehammer, as if drawn to its power. They show Goldberg in a fit of rage from WCW, spearing an unidentified guy with a beard through a cage wall. They show Vince McMahon pounding on Zach Gowen, and the rage in Spanky's eyes as he watches. They show Brock Lesnar and Kurt Angle unable to get along and facing each other. They show Eric Bischoff fuming. They show Eddie Guerrero leaning over Undertaker and yelling at him. The final image is of Vince McMahon laughing maniacally as his voice plays, yelling, "This will end... RIGHT... HERE!" It echoes and fades to black.

And now, World Wrestling Entertainment presents...

SummerSlam!

Fireworks explode throughout the America West Arena in Phoenix, AZ. The cameras pan around to show signs everywhere. The crowd noise is deafening as Lindsay -- in her disguise/assignment as Josh Matthews -- gets the opening call.

"On a cool desert night that belies the scorching heat of Arizona, the careers and the lives of many WWE superstars will be changed drastically tonight! We welcome you to the America West Arena! Welcome to SummerSlam! I'm Josh Matthews along with Jonathan Coachman, and we have the honor of being your MCs for tonight. Good ol' JR and the King get the RAW matches, while Michael Cole and Tazz will bring you the SmackDown! matches. Coach, I know we come from different sides, but I think we both agree that the big showdown is between the World Champion HHH and the always dangerous Goldberg."

"That is right. HHH and Goldberg have been on a collision course for months now, and tonight at SummerSlam, they will finally meet in a match for the ages. But let's not sell the SmackDown! side short, because they feature a WWE Title match that is a rematch of WrestleMania XIX, when Kurt Angle once again defends against Brock Lesnar. Plus, Vince McMahon will either be rid of Zach Gowen once and for all or will have to deal with Hollywood Hulk Hogan once again!"

"Don't forget, Coach, about Randy Orton of Evolution squaring off against Big Daddy Cool Kevin Nash, or about the match we have the pleasure of calling, the Inter-Promotional Brawl! Who will be Y2J Chris Jericho's replacement?"

Fireworks head to the stage as Saliva's remix of "Get the Table" plays over the PA and the crowd cheers. "Well, Josh, it sounds like the action is ready to begin, so let's throw it to our RAW crew of Good Ol' JR and the King!"

Bubba Ray and D-Von Dudley emerge from the back, carrying a table painted with the French tricolore. JR and the King talk about how La Resistance has been getting the advantage of the Dudleys at every opportunity, and how the American fans in Phoenix would love to see a title change tonight.

The decidedly French music of La Resistance plays. The crowd begins booing severely as Rene Dupree and Sylvan Grenier emerge, dressed in matching gold and black outfits with berets. They stop to view the table and scoff at it. They both roll in and wave the flags high as they wear their belts around their waists. Bubba and D-Von don't bother to wait for the bell, attacking immediately.

All four men brawl to start, with the Dudley Boys clearing the ring. Grenier is nearly hit with 3-D thirty seconds in, but Dupree pulls him out and D-Von follows. This allows La Res to double-team D-Von on the outside. Back in, Dupree tosses D-Von shoulder-first into the ringpost and rolls him up coming out of it for two. Dupree tags Grenier in, who stomps on D-Von and applies an armbar. D-Von tries to spin out of it, but Grenier switches to a hammerlock. He takes D-Von into his corner, where Dupree slaps him around a few times, then dances for the crowd.

Grenier kicks D-Von down and gets a legdrop for two. Dupree comes in and continues the armwork with an armbreaker into a wristlock. D-Von elbows out, but when delivering a lariat uses his bad arm, causing no damage to Dupree. Dupree continues the attack by stomping on the arm a few times before doing a five armdrags and dancing again. Dupree gets Bubba's attention, distracting the ref while La Resistance hit a double DDT, allowing Grenier to switch in and get two. Grenier goes up top, but D-Von catches him and delivers a superplex. Both men are down, but Dupree gets the tag and cuts D-Von off. D-Von shoots a double-leg takedown, rolls over the top of Dupree, and tags in Bubba.

Bubba clotheslines down anyone French upon entering, then ducks a double clothesline from La Res. He punches them back and forth until both are out on their feet, leading to the inevitable noggin-knocker. Off the ropes, Bubba hits a double shoulder-tackle, sending Grenier to the outside. Dupree is slammed down as D-Von climbs the ropes. Dupree's legs are held open as Bubba yells "WHAZUP!" with the crowd. One diving shot later, and D-Von performs last rites, only to be interrupted mid-cross by Grenier.

Everything breaks down as the Dudleys try to beat on Grenier. Dupree struggles to his feet and winds up being in the right place at the right time, as he trips Bubba during the buildup for 3-D. It wouldn't have mattered, since D-Von's arm gives out, allowing Grenier to fall on top for two. Bubba grabs Dupree and lifts him up on his shoulders as Grenier is tossed out of the ring by D-Von. D-Von heads to the top rope, but before he can dive off with the Dudleyville Device, Dupree rolls up Bubba for two, which D-Von saves. D-Von picks Dupree up and delivers the Saving Grace for two. FINALLY, Grenier runs in, trying to hit Bubba with the belt, but Bubba ducks and Dupree gets it. D-Von covers as Bubba hits Grenier with the Bubba Bomb, and three seconds later, the Dudleys win the Tag Team titles of RAW.

In the back, I applauded the result. It was an okay match, but I think I can top that. I looked around during the break as Kevin Nash and Randy Orton headed to the ring. Sitting to my left were the participants in our Tag Team Title match. Haas and Rey were in quiet thought. Kidman had a look of anticipation on his face, as if he felt this was his time. Shelton was staring dead ahead, his eyes focused on the television screen to the exclusion of any other thought. Torrie, though, was seated next to Kidman on the far end, paler than any makeup had ever made her. Something terrified her about tonight.

On the other side of me was an empty chair, then Molly Holly. The WWE Women's champion was dressed in casual attire, far from her white and black ensemble she wrestled in. Her face was blank, paying attention to the show, but seemingly disinterested. Her hands were clutched around her title belt in both a desperate and loathing manner, if such a thing can be said about a grip. I noticed her eyes. They seemed not to be blue or green, but rather gray. A very pale shade of gray at that -- almost as if contact lenses were involved.

I flipped on my shades and looked again. Molly was still there -- I think. But instead of being a person, she was a shadow. There was an outline where she was before, but inside no features, merely a silhouette. She seemed almost two-dimensional, as if someone had taken her space and time out of her and left her a picture in a frame.

I took the shades off and got her attention. "Moll... something wrong?"

"Hm? Oh, no, I'm fine."

"You seem worried about somethin'. Like someone will steal your belt."

"Oh, no... you see... I just feel more comfortable with it on my lap, thanks."

She hastily returned to watching the show. She doesn't want to talk to me. She doesn't seem to want to deal with anyone. I'm not sure she wants to be here.

Evolution's music hits the PA system as the crowd boos the first arrival of RAW's top stable. Randy Orton, dressed in his usual in-ring attire, flexes and poses for the crowd, as if to say, "Yeah, I'm a great guy and you hate me, but tonight, I'll still be a great guy." He is seconded by Ric Flair, who as always is in a luxurious three-piece suit that appears to cost more than the entire front row made in a week.

The horn sounds and the harmonica starts. Kevin Nash strides to the ring as the crowd gives him a mixed reaction. He walks with purpose, but also with a sense of an overriding concern. Something in his body language says he would rather be anywhere else in the world than Phoenix. That's odd. I thought he liked to perform.

After the bell, Nash and Orton lock up. Orton backs Nash into the corner and proceeds to chop at him. Nash oversells at first, almost to a comedic extent, before playing it serious as Orton continues on offense. Orton gets a suplex for the first two-count, followed by a headlock sequence. Nash whips him off into the buckle and catches him for a back suplex. Nash then sends Orton into the corner and hits the elbows, including his Picture Perfect shot, before Flair trips Nash on the outside. As Nash is distracted, Orton low blows him and hits the Play of the Day for two. Orton hits a neckbreaker for two, then goes to the chinlock.

Nash powers out, just in time for Orton to club his back again. Nash reverses a whip, however, and gets a sidewalk slam for two. Snake Eyes in the corner sets up a powerslam attempt, but Orton rolls Nash through it for two. Both men get up, but Nash hits the big boot. Nash goes for the Jacknife, but Randy Orton shoves him out of it and into Charles Robinson. With both men down, Ric Flair enters the ring with a chair. He swings, but Nash ducks and boots the chair back into Flair's face. The distraction's enough, however, as Orton gets the RKO on the chair (which has fallen to the mat), then clears the debris in time for the three count and the victory.

That was decidedly nothing. I guess they figured that match wasn't going to be good, so they positioned it low on the card. As I sorted thoughts in my mind, Pat Patterson walked into the room.

"Rey, Kidman, Haas, Benjamin... let's go."

Kidman kissed Torrie good-bye as all four headed to the ring. Torrie waved good-bye, but still seemed quite pale. As she sat back down between myself and Molly, she tried to strike up a conversation with Molly, but had about as much luck as I did. No wonder. It all sounds like nervous chatter.

As Josh Matthews and Jonathan Coachman recap the highlights thus far, the ring crew sets four ladders up, one by each side of the ring. A highlight package is shown on the PPV of the Vengeance match and how it leads directly to this outcome. A segment from Earlier Today on Heat shows Sable making this match a ladder match, including the words, "There is no way anyone will remember the Dudley Boys or La Resistance when you're done."

The camera focuses in on the tag belts as we hear Michael Cole and Tazz for the first time that night. Both sound nervous. Tazz makes a note that Cole is "not really dressed for the location -- what's with the extra layers?" Cole simply dismisses it and focuses on the match.

The silhouette of Rey's mask appears on the Tron. Soon after, Rey is vaulted to the stage from underneath. He begins to point first at the ring, then at the belts above it. He high-fives fans on the way to the ring, but stops halfway through. Kidman's music hits as the man from Allentown walks slowly to the ring. His eyes never leave the ring.

Torrie leaned over to me. "Mark... I'm scared."

"Why? Look at Kidman there. He ain't scared."

"I've seen that look. He's trying not to think about it. It usually means something bad."

Championship-style music hits the PA and the crowd begins to boo. Rey and Kidman roll into the ring and face the entrance, as Charlie Haas and Shelton Benjamin come out in their matching maroon singlets. Both men yell at the crowd a little, then jog to the ring. All four men stand in different corners as the referee makes sure each is clear on the rules. Their eyes never leave the prize.

"Mark?"

"Yeah, Torr?"

"Will he be all right?"

"I think so."

All four men charge the center and begin brawling. Haas takes Rey down in a headlock, and the two begin a chain-wrestling sequence. Benjamin clotheslines Kidman out of the ring, where he lands on a ladder. In the ring, Haas hits a German suplex on Rey, then guillotines him on the ladder. Benjamin returns to the ring and hits the leapfrog choke on Rey. Kidman is back in and grabs Haas in the Tommykaze. Shelton hits a superkick and dives out of the ring for a ladder. Rey recovers and somersaults over the top rope to Shelton, kicking the ladder into Benjamin's ribs. Back in the ring, Kidman pounds on Haas and climbs to the top rope, leaping off with a Frankensteiner. Finally, Rey brings a ladder into the proceedings, and the crowd begins to buzz.

Kidman grabs one end of the ladder, and the Filthy Animals deliver a battering ram into Haas's stomach. Benjamin grabs Rey from behind, pulling him off the ladder. Benjamin and Kidman play tug-of-war with the ladder, but when Benjamin lets go, Kidman flies back into the corner, spearing himself. Kidman drops the ladder, but as Benjamin leans over to pick it up, Rey delivers a Fame-Asser onto said ladder on Benjamin. Haas enters with a second ladder, knocking Rey in the head with it, but Kidman dropkicks Haas's leg and causes Haas to fall face-first into his ladder. Now Kidman tries to set up a ladder, only to have Haas German suplex Kidman while he's holding the ladder, causing the ladder to fall on Kidman on the way down.

Haas helps Benjamin up, but Rey leaps off Benjamin's back and ranas Haas out of the ring. Kidman now sets up a ladder by the corner, but Haas tosses him straight into a Benjamin superkick. Haas then climbs the ladder as Benjamin goes to pick up Kidman and set up for a Doomsday Device. However, Kidman slides off Benjamin's back and onto his hands and knees, allowing Rey to hit Poetry in Motion into Benjamin's back, sending him flying into the ladder and knocking the ladder out of the corner into the ring, with Haas falling to the mat. Rey gets the other ladder in the ring, and he and Kidman set them up and try to climb together. However, Benjamin knocks both ladders over into opposite ropes, sending both opponents to the floor.

"Oh, no! Billy!"

Torrie was freaking out. Molly looked over at her.

"Do you want to take a walk?"

"No... I'll be fine... I'm just scared..."

Haas is up first and figures he has a free ride, when Rey enters with a third ladder, swinging and knocking over Haas's ladder. As Rey sets up a ladder, Benjamin does the same. Kidman returns and pulls Benjamin off his ladder, and both Filthy Animals climb. They're nowhere near the belts, though; instead, they hit stereo ranas on Haas and Benjamin from the tops of the ladders. Kidman is up first, but his attempt to climb the third ladder (for a visual, they are all next to each other now) is thwarted by Haas, who German suplexes Kidman off the ladder, then suplexes the ladder onto Kidman.

Rey is up and dropkicks Haas out of the ring. Benjamin hits a tilt-a-whirl on Rey to knock him down, then grabs the ladder off of Kidman and sets it up. Kidman is up on the other side, and the race is on. At the top, a slgufest erupts. Rey climbs a side ladder and clotheslines Benjamin off the center ladder, but he winds up taking the whole ladder down with him, as Kidman rides the ladder to the ground. Haas, meanwhile, returns with the fourth ladder, and when he tries to set it up mid-ring, Rey blocks. So Haas clubs Rey with the ladder, then tries a second time. This time, Kidman dropkicks the ladder into Haas's face. Benjamin is back up now, and he and Kidman both grab ladders at 10 paces, swinging them like broadswords at each other. Benjamin and Kidman are next to opposite ropes, so Haas drops Kidman throat-first onto one rope, while Rey 619s Benjamin through the other. This sets up Rey to deliver the West Coast Pop onto the ladder on Benjamin.

All four people and all four ladders are down. Haas is the first in, and he sets up the two ladders as before. Benjamin is up next, and Haas has a brainstorm. He grabs one end and instructs Benjamin to grab the other. The WGTT climb opposite ladders and set the ladder up in the middle as a bridge. Rey knocks Haas off of his ladder, while Kidman grabs Benjamin from behind and drags him down, leaving the ladder bridge precariously balancing on top. Benjamin gets mad and clotheslines Kidman, then drags him to the fourth, prone ladder. He tries to powerbomb Kidman on the ladder, but that goes about as well as expected and Kidman reverses to a facebuster onto the ladder.

Torrie jumped out of her seat. She was clearly into the match a little too much.

"Molly, take her outside."

"No, no, no... I'm going to be fine! Really!"

Molly stood up. "I don't think I am." She walked out, very businesslike, as if she were taking Torrie's bullet.

Kidman tosses the fourth ladder out of the ring, then climbs a side ladder, causing the bridge to come apart and land on Haas, who was coming over to cut him off. Rey runs over and hands Kidman the side ladder again, then climbs the other ladder as Kidman holds his end steady. Rey attempts to walk the bridge, but Benjamin jumps up and grabs him, landing him groin-first on the ladder bridge. Kidman descends his ladder as Rey falls off, taking the bridge with him. Rey untangles himself as Haas climbs a ladder. Rey charges, and Kidman alleyoops him into a rana on Haas. Kidman catches the ladder and goes to re-establish the bridge by himself. He succeeds in setting it up, but every time he tries to cross, the bridge collapses. This continues until Benjamin throws him off the ladder, leaving the bridge standing.

Benjamin and Kidman head outside the ring while Rey and Haas are inside it. Kidman pulls the fourth ladder into a corner, away from the bridge. Benjamin rams him into the post on the outside, and the two battle near the Spanish announce table. Kidman blocks a direct shot, then tosses Benjamin onto the tricolore table, which has been sitting around ominously since the opening match. Kidman sees this and re-enters the ring. He climbs the fourth ladder and stares down at Benjamin, prone on the table.

Torrie's eyes grew wide. "Oh, God... I can't look." She buried her face into my outfit, since that was the nearest black object. The entire locker room was standing up. Somewhere, I heard Paul Heyman's voice yell, "Oh no!" Stephanie shrieked in fear.

Kidman leaps into the air. He backflips in midair and comes down, not onto Benjamin (who moves out of the way), but onto and through the tricolore table, which utterly shatters on impact. The crowd is stunned, then breaks out in a riotous cheer. Back in the ring, Rey and Haas are climbing opposite sides of the ladder bridge, both trying to knock the other off with the bridge. Benjamin sneaks into the center of the ring and jumps up. He grabs the ladder bridge from underneath and pulls himself up through the ladder. He then slowly stands up on the bridge and grabs the ring onto which the belts are connected. All three ladders give way, and Rey and Haas crash to the floor. Benjamin pulls himself up very slowly and grabs both belts, then drops down. The belts come unhooked, and Benjamin crashes to the mat, barely missing the ladder, with both belts in his hands.

The crowd is too stunned to boo the champs. Everyone is down, as the ring resembles a cross between the Home Improvement set and Jonestown, Guyana. Referees flood ringside to check on all four men. Benjamin and Haas stand up first to celebrate. They limp off into the locker room. Slowly, Rey picks himself up off the mat as referees pull Kidman out of the wreckage of the table. Kidman rolls into the ring and slowly to his feet. Both men look around at the ladders, and at what might have been, as the crowd gives them a standing ovation.

The locker room partially emptied as 10 different people prepared for the next match. Torrie pulled her head out of my shirt long enough to look up. "Is he... is he all right?"

I nodded. "He survived."

Torrie nodded comprehension and relief. She sat down, her nerves too fried to respond. Heck, I don't blame her. If the love of my life just did something like that, I'd be a little freaked too. Man, they're gonna be sore tomorrow.

I walked into the back hall. Haas and Benjamin were slowly walking to the back. I paused in front of them. "Boys," I said, "welcome to immortality."

[The Third Dukes]

Hour #2 included the first real indication of Molly's role in the BVS. I tried to play it as mysterious as possible, as I had a few story arcs I wanted to slog through before coming back to this one. At the time, this story was simply background noise among the readers, but it eventually turned into one of the most talked-about subplots of the entire diary. For now, though, she was just behaving erratically -- and for those who know the story, you can see I knew all along where I was going.

*****

I caught up with Molly as she stood by the entranceway with a large group of superstars in position for the brawl. She stood off to the side, as if wanting to try to view the match without anyone noticing her existence. She was dwarfed by the mass of humanity around her -- heck, she was a foot or so shorter than Goldust, who himself was only the 5th or 6th tallest of the group of wrestlers gathered around (myself included). I went to speak to her, but Stephanie cut me off and pulled me down to her level.

"Andy," she whispered, "I'm nervous. How do I follow that up?"

"Don't worry, Steph," I said out loud so that we wouldn't draw attention. "You don't need to kill yourself out there to get over. Just be yourself -- you'll be fine."

Eager to escape from Kathleen's grasp, I moved closer to Molly, who saw me coming and stepped aside. I didn't know how to handle this, so I simply took a spot next to her on the wall. She kept facing forward, her arms clutching her Women's title belt to her chest. I tried to think of a good conversation starter. I figured the anonymity of the crowd around us would be a help.

"You really like being Women's Champion?"

"Hmm? What?"

"You hold the belt near you like it's your life."

"Oh... no, it's not that... I just don't want to lose it. We're responsible for our own possessions, you know."

"So leave it in the locker room. People can find it there."

"Oh... yeah, I guess... um... excuse me..."

She started to run to the locker room. I gave chase.

"Wait, wait..." I said as I grabbed her arm to stop her.

"Don't touch me like that!"

"Like what?"

She hesitated, almost as if she'd said too much. "No, I'm sorry. I was just surprised."

"Molly, it's more than that. What's gotten into you? Three months ago you were happy, smiling at everyone and wishing people good luck. Now you're almost a wallflower. What's changed?"

"Nothing. Nothing important, anyway."

"Come on, you can tell me. Don't you trust me?"

She shook her head.

"Oh, all right. Just... smile a little. Have fun. It's SummerSlam, and you're the Women's Champion."

In the background, we heard Eve's All Grown Up playing in the arena.

"The match is starting," she said, almost robotically. "Let's go in and watch."

I followed.

Stephanie McMahon comes out with Chris Benoit as Josh and Coach get set to call the action. On their way to the ring, they pass Rey and Kidman, who are just now getting helped to the back. They applaud as the two head back, and the entire crowd joins in. Then, the duo continue to the ring.

Big Show's music hits and, after the brief pyro, he and A-Train emerge. They slowly make their way to the ring amidst a series of boos. Matthews notes that this will be an interesting match because a lot of these people are not necessarily friends. As if to emphasize the point, Train stares down Benoit before Stephanie separates the two.

With the words Word Life playing over the PA, the crowd goes into their mixed reaction for John Cena. With everyone else in the ring maintaining an uneasy alliance, Cena asks for the microphone.

"Yo, yo, yo, cut it--"

But before he can begin, I'm Back starts up and Eric Bischoff smugly walks out. He's not alone, however; the injury replacement, Test, is standing right behind him. Test steps over the top rope and immediately looks A-Train in the eye as Josh casually drops Trish Stratus's name, surprising everyone in the back who didn't know he pays attention to history.

Stand Back! Hurricane makes his entrance, posing as he walks down the aisle. He climbs into the ring and hits one last pose before joining his teammates in the RAW corner. The movie music begins soon after as Goldust goes through his long entrance routine. The letterboxing and gold strobe lighting stand out against the green of Hurricane's costume and Cena's jersey as they begin the fight. The fight? Yes, they're not waiting.

Goldust charges the ring to get involved, but the size and the bulk advantage shifts the weight to SmackDown!'s team. Amidst all the chaos, One of a Kind starts up and RVD sprints in to clean house. Kicks go flying as Show and Train fall out of the ring, followed by Cena, Test, Stephanie, and Goldust. With everyone down on the outside, Hurricane dives onto the top of all of them. As they get up, RVD follows with a somersault plancha. Back in the ring, Bischoff and Benoit battle until Benoit sends Eric flying over the top onto everyone on the outside. Benoit sees the pile, runs the ropes, and dives through them, getting all nine pins on one shot.

Everyone slowly returns to the general vicinity of the ring, where Hurricane and Cena start the match proper. The lockup leads to Cena powering Hurricane into the corner, then punching away at him. Cena whips Hurricane across the ring, but the charge misses and Hurricane gets in a Shining Wizard for a quick two. Cena tags in Stephanie, but Hurricane refuses to fight. Bischoff demands a tag in and gets it, showing the crane pose to Stephanie. Stephanie slaps Eric, who kicks her all the way across the ring. Benoit and Cena charge in to protect her, drawing in RVD. RVD cuts Cena off, but Benoit chops Bischoff down to size, then picks him up for a snap suplex. Test cuts him off as the whole tag concept is sort of a lost cause. Eventually, it's RVD and Benoit in the ring.

Benoit throws RVD chest-first into the turnbuckle, then bounces him out with consecutive suplexes. Benoit climbs for the headbutt, but Hurricane knocks him off the top straight into a kick from RVD. Goldust gets the tag and powerslams Benoit for two. He tries for the sliding punch, but Benoit catches the arm and flips him over, attempting the Crossface. Test breaks that up by grabbing Benoit's neck and lifting him up, but that opens him up for A-Train's pump kick. Meanwhile, Goldust tags in Hurricane, who dives off the top onto Benoit for two. Benoit clotheslines Hurricane down and brings in Cena.

Cena lifts Hurricane up and climbs the turnbuckles, looking for the super fallaway slam. Hurricane tries to turn it into a cross-body, and the result is neither as both men are down. Cena is up first, and he tosses Hurricane over his head and to the outside. Goldust enters and hits an inverted DDT on Cena, then tosses him over the top, only to have Show come in and boot him down and out. With that, RVD dives onto Show with a kick of his own, sending Show rolling out and bringing A-Train in with a pump kick. Coachman observes that the tag rules are getting scrambled up in this match.

Train picks RVD up and hits Snake Eyes in the corner, getting two. Train tags in Cena, who kicks away at an open RVD, then picks him up for an F-U. RVD reverses to a crucifix for two. He tags Test in, and Test clotheslines down Cena, then hits the pumphandle slam for two. Hurricane returns and gets a standing rana for two. A crossbody hits for two. Goldust is tagged in and goes for Shattered Dreams in the corner, but Show pulls Cena out of the way and Goldust's leg hits the turnbuckle. Cena tags Benoit in, who applies the Sharpshooter, prompting Bischoff to make the save. Benoit tries to re-apply it, but Goldust rolls him up for two, reversed by Cena for two, reversed by RVD for two. Show and Test get the tags, and a slugfest erupts. Show wins it and doubles Test over with a chop before slamming him. A legdrop gets him two before Cena tags back in. Cena climbs to the top rope and waits, but when Test gets up, his diving clothesline is blocked by the Big Boot for two. Bischoff demands in and hits a superkick for two. He slaps Stephanie, who slaps him back, distracting him and allowing Cena to roll him up for two before the match totally breaks down.

Everyone quickly enters the ring for a brawl as the ref loses track of the legal men. In the chaos, Hurricane choke slams Benoit, only to get it back from Show, who gets hit from behind by the Curtain Call from Goldust, who gets slammed in the F-U from Cena, who gets hit with an enzuigiri from RVD, who is Derailed by A-Train, who is speared down by Bischoff, who gets Pedigreed by Stephanie, who is picked up for a pumphandle slam by Test, only to have Benoit grab him in the Crossface before anything happens. Test tries to hang on, but the pain is too much and he's forced to tap out.

"Ha! Pay up!" Ron Simmons had turned to Bradshaw with the hand outstretched. Bradshaw reached into his pocket and produced a $20 bill.

"All right, all right," he said. "Now go get the beer."

"Right on, bro," said Simmons.

I looked around for Eddie. I couldn't find him. I stepped outside for a while, only to see him around the corner, having a discussion with McMahon himself. I couldn't hear anything, but the discussion seemed rather heated. I stepped in and tried to interject.

"Guys, what's the deal?"

"You tricked me, Taker! You said I could trust you, esse, and now you gonna squash me out here?"

"I never said that!"

"The hell you didn't! Senor McMahon says you not gonna give me anything!"

I turned to Vince. "Vince, I thought..."

"Dammit, I gave orders. Do you want to follow my orders or not?"

"Don't put me on the spot, Vince. I told you we're having a rematch, and I wanna build to the rematch. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have some spots to work out."

"Hey! Come back here! Don't you remember who I am?"

By this time, Paul Heyman had interceded and was pulling Vince back. Eddie and I headed around the corner, into privacy.

"You lied, hombre!"

"No! I did not. I don't give a damn what Vince says. I'm gonna wrestle my match, and if he fires me, it'll be his own funeral. You got that?"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me I can trust you!"

I stared directly into his eyes. I saw the fire again, but this time, it was stronger than before. It was a fire fueled by rage, but also by a feeling of treason. This time, though, I knew how to end it.

"Eddie, if I screw this match up, I will retire on the spot. Count on it."

The blaze around the eyes lessened. It began to return to a normal eye color. Eddie's face relaxed. He extended his hand.

"Alright, Mark," he said. "I'll trust you."

Back at ringside, Harvard's theme music plays over the PA system. Teddy Long leads all his troops to the ring, headed by Chris Nowinski, who draws the assignment tonight. Rodney Mack and Jazz hit the pose behind Nowinski, and Teddy Long is thuggin and buggin around the ring, showing off his charges.

As soon as Booker T's voice yells the Can You Dig It Sucka over the system, the crowd goes ballistic. JR and King talk about whether Booker T was furthering racial stereotypes or being his own man, while T poses on the entranceway and sends up the flames. Nowinski's teammates leave the ring, as Booker hands his belt to referee Nick Patrick. The proceedings begin.

After a lockup, Booker T backs Nowinski into the corner and gets a clean break. Nowinski reverses quickly and batters Booker with lefts and rights, then charges in with a shouldertackle. Booker moves, but Nowinski slams on the breaks, pointing to his head. As he turns around, though, Booker kicks him in the face, knocking him down. Nowinski is back up, though, and Booker punches Nowinski in the facemask. However, Nowinski doesn't flinch and Booker begins to shake his hand in pain. Nowinski slams Booker's hand into the turnbuckle, then gets an armdrag and an armbar while jawing with fans. Booker flips Nowinski out of the armbar and clotheslines him down, but Teddy Long gets up and takes a punch from the bad hand, slowing Booker down and allowing Nowinski a suplex for two.

Nowinski holds Booker's arm up and punches his damaged hand a few times before applying a hammerlock. Booker elbows out, but Nowinski keeps a hold of the hand. Booker pulls him in with the Book End, but his hand is so hurt he stumbles off by the ropes to rest. Rodney Mack climbs up and drops Booker's arm over the top rope, causing Booker to stagger around and allowing Nowinski to hit a double-arm DDT for two. Nowinski applies a knucklelock on Booker T in an attempt to get him to submit, but Booker dives for the ropes, slingshotting Nowinski to the floor.

Nowinski fakes an injury, drawing the referee's attention. Back in the ring, meanwhile, Jazz swings a chair at Booker's weak hand, hitting the forearm and causing more damage. Back in, Nowinski applies an armbar and goes for a hammerlock slam, but Booker slides down Nowinski's back and hits an inverted DDT. He bounces off with the biiiiiiig kneedrop for two. As they stand up, Nowinski headbutts Booker's arm using the facemask, then tries for a short-arm scissors. Booker powers out, so Nowinski hits a judo takedown instead for two. Nowinski tries for a hiptoss, but Booker clotheslines him down with the other arm instead. From there on out, it's all Booker T, as the axe kick, spinarooni, and leg lariat get the job done and help him retain the I-C title. Rodney Mack gets a Book End for good measure after the match.

Pat Patterson appeared backstage. "Brock, Kurt, you're next. Taker, Eddie -- get your rides."

Huh? Already? Isn't this early for the match? Oh, yeah, that's right, the heel turn. They probably want to send the fans home happy.

I walked out of the locker room and went backstage. I looked for my bike, which Kevin Dunn had positioned right next to a monitor. Eddie walked over to his Lo Rider, which was situated off in a corner of the arena. Before getting in, he ran back and found me.

"Mark... let's go make Vince eat his words."

"I'm with ya there, man."

We pounded fists, and he was off again. I settled onto the bike and watched.

The opening chord of Brock Lesnar's rock anthem plays, causing the crowd to cheer wildly. With no indication yet as to who will turn, Michael Cole and Tazz speculate that the crowd will cheer both men. Brock jogs in place, then marches down the aisle. He leaps onto the apron, setting off his pyro, after which he steps into the ring and jogs some more.

Medal starts up as the crowd cheers a second time. The You Suck chants rain down on Kurt Angle as he arrives in the arena proper. Red, white, and blue pyro go off behind him. He gets to the ring and rolls in, twirling for the crowd. Referee Tim White -- back after a long absence -- takes the belt and holds it up for the crowd. Brock and Kurt shake hands. They begin preparations as the bell rings.

The two combatants circle each other and lock up. Kurt gets a single leg takedown and attempts to bridge Brock's back onto the mat, but Brock wiggles out and returns to the top position. Neither man can maintain the edge for more than five seconds before Kurt gets a half-nelson and rolls over Brock's back, putting Brock in the lower position. Kurt attempts to turn it over, but after 30 seconds of fighting, Brock escapes and takes the offensive, getting the mount and wrestling Kurt to the mat. Kurt flops in an attempt to squeeze under while Cole and Tazz play up the amateur background of both men. Kurt finds Brock's leg and tries to flip Brock over, but Brock blocks and finds himself sitting on Kurt. He attempts to roll Kurt over, but Kurt blocks and has Brock in a predicament. Brock's shoulders fall to the mat, earning Kurt a few two counts, before Brock reverses the leverage and gets a 3/4 nelson, earning a two count of his own. Kurt escapes and gets a front chancery, but Brock squirms it around to a chinlock and rolls Kurt's back to the mat. Kurt attempts an armlock leglock into an Oklahoma roll, but Brock blocks it and tries to roll Kurt onto the mat. Kurt takes the momentum and balances on his head and arms, putting Brock's shoulders to the mat for two. Brock escapes and tries to get Kurt in a fireman's carry, but Kurt grabs the ankle. Brock rolls through and grabs Kurt's ankle, and both men tumble into the ropes, causing a break and ending the amateur portion of the match.

The production crew panned the crowd, showing a standing ovation. I applauded, too. It's rare that shoot wrestling looks good in fake wrestling, but here was a fine example.

Both men stare each other down. Kurt goes for a waistlock, but Brock pounds on him to take over. He grabs Kurt by the waist and beals him overhead, hanging on and repeating it. Brock rides Kurt to the mat and tries for a German, but Kurt reverses and tries for more amateur wrestling. This time, on the escape, Brock clotheslines Kurt down. Kurt slowly gets up, confused. Brock charges, but Kurt ducks and Brock hits the turnbuckles. Kurt rolls Brock up for two, but Brock grabs Kurt and throws him halfway across the ring. Brock follows in and stomps Kurt down as Cole notes that Brock is the aggressor in the match.

Brock slams Kurt down and climbs the ropes, waiting for Kurt to stand. Kurt does so, and Brock shouldertackles him for two. Kurt slowly gets up and rolls up Brock out of a vertical suplex for two. Brock angrily tosses Kurt into the corner and delivers some rib shots to him. Kurt gets tossed from corner to corner, but pops up onto the second turnbuckle and jumps back onto Brock with a tornado DDT, but Brock blocks it, so Kurt turns it into a vertical suplex, hitting three in a row. He whoos to the crowd and pulls down his strap, at which time Vince McMahon emerges.

Angle is confused by McMahon's appearance, causing him to turn around into the F-5 for two. Brock gets irate, then goes for his bearhug, but Kurt fights out with a swinging neckbreaker before Brock can lock his hands. Kurt waits for Brock to get up, then delivers a belly-to-belly throw that sends Brock to the outside. Kurt waits for Brock to get back in, but as Brock stalls on the apron, Kurt suplexes him back in and delivers a Dynamite cradle for two. Kurt heads up top, but before he can miss the moonsault, Brock comes up from behind and delivers a German superplex for two.

Angle gets picked up by Brock, but he finds the strength for a Northern Lights suplex for two. He positions Brock for the Olympic Slam, but Brock's feet hit Tim White on the way up. With the ref down, Angle goes over to awaken the referee, but Vince jumps into the ring and makes motions to indicate he'll be the referee for now. Angle is suspicious, but goes along with it, covering Brock for a long two. Angle asks about the count, so Brock rolls him up for a regular-paced two, which the crowd thought would be the finish. Angle ducks a Lesnar clothesline, then tries a cradle from behind, only to have Brock block it. Angle charges straight into an overhead suplex by Brock as Tim White recovers.

He attempts to get Vince out of the ring, missing Brock covering Angle for what would be a three. Brock gets the referee's attention, only to have Kurt dive at him from behind and apply the Ankle Lock. Brock gets himself pulled as far away from the ropes as possible, leaving Angle with his back to the ropes. Vince cracks Angle with a chair, which the referee doesn't see since he's checking for a tapout. Both men are down. Brock gets up first and gingerly picks Angle up. One F-5 later, and Brock Lesnar is your new SmackDown! champion -- but under unusual circumstances.

Brock looks uneasily at Vince McMahon. He then looks back at the title, then at McMahon. The camera catches him saying, "Thanks." He and Vince hug, and Brock leaves on his own. The crowd is in shock as Vince begins to yell at Angle. He then stomps Angle down and applies an Ankle Lock of his own. Angle climbs out of the ring and looks at Vince, his face that of a man deceived.

Man, we gotta follow that? Dang. That'll be hard. The crowd's deflated, and probably worn out, too. How can we hope to compete now?

Within seconds, I was to find out. Pat looked at me and said, "Two minutes." I watched the video package for our match, detailing the idea of respect and tradition. Cole's voice billed it as being "about more than the US title; this is about being in the elite." Tazz's voice echoed, "I think both men feel the main event isn't big enough for the both of them."

I waited. One month ago, I was sitting in a bar in Virginia watching the Undertaker go against John Cena in Denver. Now I'm in Phoenix, and I am the Undertaker, and I'm preparing for the biggest experience of my afterlife. If I fail Eddie here, I may fail the mission, and my own existence could be forfeit. If I give Eddie what he wants, Vince will take it out on an innocent man. God, help me figure out what to do.

[The Third Dukes]

And now, the finish. I wanted to make sure SummerSlam ended with the fans happy, and so the original plan was to have Goldberg's chase end and have him capture the World Title. Of course, around this time he had been booked so unimpressively that HHH decided Goldberg wasn't "worthy" of the World Title. And HHH had Creative Control, so that made things very difficult on me. This resulted in perhaps the bizarrest of decisions -- the second-biggest PPV of the year being headlined by Vince himself? Was I nuts?

If I was, I at least had some things in reserve to save the bad idea. Taker/Eddie wound up being lifted in major portions from the WMX-7 brawl Taker had with HHH. I figured I might as well steal one of Taker's good performances, and with Eddie involved and the bizarre feelings each one had, it led to a memorable match. In fact, in his review, Conniption described it as perhaps the best example of combining backstage and on-screen in the diary (and hopefully, I think, in EWB history. But I have an ego). When Virch does a Retro Rant on this in the future, I'm sure his feelings for this match will improve -- it's one of the few times a match has historical significance.

The ending of the main event (Vince/Zach) may well be the strangest ending booked in any diary. A half-dozen people running in may have been expected because the two people in the ring were unproven commodities, but the final run-in had a lot of people doing a double-take and questioning whether I was completely off the deep end. You decide for yourself, though -- I felt it was a good "gotcha".

*****

"Okay, Mark, fire it up."

I hit the ignition and revved the motor. Since I could no longer here anything over the sound of the engine, I kept my eyes fixed on Kevin Dunn for the cue. He signalled five seconds, then four, then three, two, one. I took off.

I burst through the curtain and could hear the roar of the crowd over the engine and music. I struck my chest and raised my fist in the air. As I saw people in the crowd return the signal, I rushed forward on the bike, doing a full lap. I parked the bike sideways in the entrance way, a little deeper than normal. I hope nothing goes wrong with this stunt the production guys were talking about.

VIVA LA RAZA was shouted through the America West Arena. I stood in the ring and waited, judging the crowd reaction. From what I could tell, both of us were "tweeners" for this match. Eddie Guerrero emerged in his Lo Rider, moving the hydraulics near the entrance. However, he gunned it one time too many, and the car rolled over my bike, crushing it. Eddie got out as I rushed to the wreck. No sparks, no flame -- okay, time to kill Eddie.

As Eddie checked the bumper of his car, I stomped his back repeatedly. I picked him up and tossed him into the stairs, then into the ring. The referee signalled for the bell as I backed Eddie into the corner. "You <whack> do <whack> not <whack> mess <whack> with <whack> my <whack> bike <whack>!!" I yelled as I pummelled him in the corner. He begged for time as I backed up, then hit me with a low blow and a sunset flip for one. As we both got up, he continued the offense with lefts and rights. I was sent flying into the corner, and Eddie sent me back out with a monkey flip, on which I almost didn't get full rotation. Man, I didn't know I was this immobile.

I stood up and was hit with a rana for two. Eddie played to the crowd, allowing me to grab him from behind and toss him over my head. I whipped him into the ropes and bounced off the other side. We met in the middle when I did a flying clothesline. Okay, now what? I picked him up and whispered, "Do something." I set him up for a slam, but Eddie dropped out the back and caught me with a DDT as I turned around. Eddie picked me up and suplexed me to the side of the ropes, then scooted outside and hit the senton back in for two. He picked me up and went for German suplex, but I elbowed out and delivered a bulldog.

I rolled him over and rubbed my forearm in his face. I pulled him up, going for a spinebuster, but he grabbed my head for a DDT, and the resulting stalemate put us both down. We both slowly got to our feet, where Eddie charged me. I ducked and pulled the rope down, and Eddie flipped over the top and stumbled onto his Lo Rider roof. Here goes nothing. I climbed the turnbuckle and began slowly to walk to the center of the ropes. This is harder than I thought without an arm to guide me. I judged the distance and put all my strength into it. I dove straight forward, going for what would be a spear if Eddie were upright. He moved, and I crashed through the car roof and into the front seat. As the crowd groaned in sympathy pain and chanted Eddie's name, I pulled something out of the passenger seat. It was a razor blade. Well, he knows what to do.

I sent the blade over my forehead. I felt the blood rush down the front of my face. Have I cut too deep?? Eddie grabbed me out of the car and dragged me to the hood, slamming my head into it. I looked through the liquid in my hair and saw Eddie's face, a little uneasy. I did cut too deep. He picked me up and whispered, "You ok?" I answered by reversing the clutch into a suplex onto the hood. "Yeah, you're fine."

I returned to the ring and let the crowd see my face. An "ECW" chant broke out at the sight of the blood, replacing the "Holy Shit" chant from the initial crash. I looked on the Tron and saw the replays of the crash and the suplex. After that, I exited the ring again and went to Eddie, who was crawling into the back seat of the car and had a bottle in his hand. He took a quick swig and waited as I got closer. I picked him up, and he sent the water flying onto my face and eyes.

"Blinded", and in pain from the "alcohol" on the open wound, I staggered backward around ringside. I bumped into the guardrail by the ring, then turned around. Out of my squinted eyes, I saw the referee approaching. I took a wild swing in his direction, and he ducked. I then picked him up, and with the ref yelling, "Wait, wait, Taker, no," I set him up on the outside for the Tombstone. I delivered, as the crowd gasped in horror. Go time.

I rolled the referee back into the ring and tried to cover him. Eddie raced in after me and jumped on me with a double axhandle. I quickly turned to where he was and tried to wipe the blood away. He charged with a second axhandle, but I caught him and back body dropped him over the top. I followed him out, and Eddie ran into the crowd as I gave chase.

He worked his way over to a production tower, which had padding all around the bottom, but which itself was 10-15 feet up. Eddie started to climb up the side, but I dragged him off and punched him a few times to get him staggered. I grabbed the goozle, but Eddie kicked low to block. He resumed climbing up to the top, and by the time I regained my senses, he was in the crow's nest. I went for the stairs to chase after him, but he met me with a chairshot, staggering me down the rest of the way. As I walked down, he continued to pound me with the chair. He ripped at the wound to make it open more, then hit one final chairshot before climbing back up to the top. He signalled for a frog splash, but I sat up. Not yet, Eddie...

I climbed up the side of the tower, but Eddie was waiting. As I pulled myself over the railing, he hit another chairshot to the back, causing me to teeter on the rail. He went to dump me, but I hung on by one hand. I grabbed the chair out of his hand with the other, but he dropkicked it into my face. I flew off the tower and onto the padding below. Wow. That didn't hurt so bad. Ten seconds later, Eddie perched on the railing and frog splashed onto me off of it. That did!

He showed off to the fans, who began to chant "Holy Shit" again. As the EMTs headed over to where we were, Eddie shoved them aside one by one. I grabbed the stretcher they had brought to me and jabbed it into Eddie's back, causing him to stumble. I picked the stretcher up, adjusted my grip, and swung. Eddie jumped backwards five feet and landed on another security railing. From there, we brawled back out of the crowd and to ringside.

Brian Hebner had yet to move in the ring. I grabbed Eddie against a post and spoke to him on a wide shot. "Gimme a false fall," I said. "For Vince." He nodded, then kicked back to break out of the choke hold. He slugged me down on the outside and worked on the ribs and the cut, sending me headfirst into the railing. I made sure as I fell down to run the cut over the edge of the railing, causing blood to fall into my eyes again. The things I do for entertainment.

Eddie threw me back in and followed up to the top. He slapped his chest and signalled for the frog splash. As he dove off, I got the knees up. I looked and saw Brian Hebner was still down outside. I rolled on top of Eddie and hooked the leg. The crowd counted to 10, but it didn't matter. I then slithered outside and tried to revive the referee. It didn't work. Meanwhile, Eddie had made his way to the top rope. He dove and nailed me with a crossbody into the guardrail. He then grabbed the dented hood ornament off the car and returned. Oh, no... he's not gonna...!

He was. He began to jam the ornament into the cut. Pain shot through my head as I yelled. After a while, Mike Chioda came down and ordered Eddie to stop and put the action back in the ring. Eddie argued with him, so I grabbed the ornament out of his hands and swung. Of course, Eddie ducked, and Chioda got it head-on. He even bladed.

Eddie ran into the ring as I stalked him. He begged for time, but I wasn't going to fall for it twice. I let him get it out of his system as I raised the ornament into the air. He charged at my legs and clipped me down, then punched me repeatedly. He knelt on top of me and yelled some Spanish to the crowd, but that gave me the opening to grab the goozle again. I stood up and delivered the choke slam as Chioda got into the ring. I signalled for the Last Ride as Chioda went straight for the timekeeper. I picked Eddie up, and as I flipped him over, the bell began to ring. Chioda had seen enough and thrown the match out. See if I care.

As I lifted him up, he slid down my back and spun me around. He hit a rana and went for the El Paso Lasso. I kicked him off and caught him in the Tombstone position on the rebound. I then bent backwards as Eddie lifted me up. I balanced myself upside down and braced for the worst. Down came my head on the mat. Eddie had tombstoned me. He went to the ropes to celebrate, but I sat up again. He stared at me, then charged. We started an immediate slugfest that had no conclusion as a dozen people came in from the back to break us up. No dice, as Eddie slid out of the ring, and I flipped out after him. Officials went flying left and right as we headed to the back.

We kept throwing punches backstage until we heard Vince's voice yell, "Okay, enough, enough!" We both stopped and looked at him. He bit his lip and appeared upset, but it soon melted a little. "Boys, that was a damn good show. I think we got ourselves a cage match for No Mercy!"

I looked at Eddie and smiled. "Well, Vince, I couldn't have done it alone."

"Yeah, Senor," Eddie added. "and Taker pushed me like I wanted to be pushed."

"Eddie, I may have been wrong about you," Vince said. "I think you'll be losing the US Title soon. I'm going to see if you're ready for bigger and better things."

"Really?"

"We'll see."

Eddie's smile said it all. He skipped to the back. Vince turned to me.

"Mark, you gave him a lot out there."

"I know, Vince... but I made a promise we'd have a rematch."

"Mark, Mark... it's okay. You two can be a draw if you keep this up. Now go get patched up. We'll discuss getting your star back later."

I walked slowly to the training room. Dr. Fraser was backstage, watching the on-screen feud recap on a monitor. He saw me come in. "Mark... ooo... that's a nasty one. Cut a little deep this time?"

"Yeah, Doc. Sorry... it's SummerSlam, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it. Lemme stitch that up for ya."

I tried to ignore the pain of the stitches as I watched the next match.

Evolution's music hits once again, segueing into Motorhead's Game. HHH walks out from the back, alone. He stands on the stage, belt over his right shoulder, water bottle in hand. He walks to the ring and performs his entrance routine, complete with water spray. He ascends the buckle, then waits.

"Wait... what about Vince?"

"I dunno, Mark. Guess he wants to go on last to give you time to get patched up."

"Guess so. Hope he knows what he's doing."

"Yeah."

The drums start up as the crowd delivers a mixed reaction. On the screen, we see a knock on a door. There's a pounding from the other side as Goldberg emerges with a knot on his head. He makes the long walk to the ring. The camera returns to HHH, smirking in the ring. Goldberg steps out from behind the curtain and stands in the pyro. He blows out the smoke and yells. After his usual gesticulations, he charges the ring, not waiting for the bell.

A slugfest breaks out, which Goldberg wins. Goldberg tosses HHH into the corner and sets up for the spear. HHH steps aside and Goldberg rams his arm into the post. HHH attacks the arm and applies an armbar. Goldberg stands up out of it and punches HHH away. HHH delivers a kneelift instead and poses over Goldberg. Goldberg kips up and clotheslines HHH with the bad arm, ignoring the injury. He pounds HHH down, but HHH tosses Goldberg aside and returns fire. A facebuster slows Goldberg down temporarily, but HHH can't get the cover.

The slugging continues as HHH tries to wear Goldberg down. HHH tosses Goldberg off the ropes, but Goldberg returns with a shoulderblock. Goldberg tosses HHH over the ropes and the two brawl around ringside. Back in, HHH takes control and stomps Goldberg. He lifts Goldberg up for a suplex, then covers for one. HHH lifts Goldberg up, but Goldberg delivers a gorilla press. He charges HHH in the corner, but HHH elbows out and kicks him in the gut. Goldberg backdrops out of the Pedigree and poses for the spear. He hits it, and is ready for the Jackhammer as Ric Flair comes strolling out.

Goldberg yells at Flair, allowing HHH to roll out of the ring. Goldberg brings Flair into the ring and delivers the spear and Jackhammer to him. Earl Hebner helps Flair out of the ring as HHH returns with the sledgehammer. As Hebner's back is turned, HHH drills Goldberg with the sledgehammer, knocking him out. HHH tosses the sledge aside and covers, and the oblivious referee counts three.

HHH poses with a groggy Flair as JR curses him out. Goldberg slowly gets up and stares at the two Evolution members. They turn around, and Goldberg times it just right to spear both of them down. His music plays as he walks out. It's clearly not over -- if that's a good thing.

"Okay, Mark... you're all patched up. Now head to the on-deck circle."

"Thanks, Doc."

I walked back to just behind the curtain. There, I saw Big Show, A-Train, Vince McMahon, Zach Gowen, Kurt Angle, and Eddie Guerrero. Eddie Guerrero??

"Eddie? I thought Brock was the other guy."

"Oh... he was told to take the night off. The story is that he isn't Vince's guy, but he'll take the help. Vince said he wanted me to counterac-choo, man. Ain't that awesome?"

"All right. Congrats, Eddie."

No Chance in Hell starts up as Vince McMahon smugly walks to the ring. He jaws with fans at ringside, then looks at Tim White, the assigned referee.

"Understand this, Tim," he growls into a microphone. "I write your paycheck every week. I control your financial well-being. I don't like Zach Gowen, and I definitely don't like Hulk Hogan. So if you don't want to be in a position to regret the rest of your natural life, you'll do the right thing. Do I have your comprehension?" Tim nods nervously. The crowd chants "Asshole" as Vince stares at the entranceway.

Gowen's music starts up and the crowd begins to cheer. Zach limps to ringside, then rolls into the ring. He stares at Vince, then removes his track pants and prosthesis. Tim White tries to go over the rules as a ringside official takes Zach's leg. He calls for the bell.

Vince immediately kicks Zach's leg down and begins to stomp on it. He tries for a legbar, but Zach is right in the ropes. Tim counts for the break, which Vince provides, but he stares a hole right in the referee as he does. Zach gets to his... er... foot, then dropkicks Vince in the back. A spinkick follows, sending Vince into the corner. Zach "charges", then delivers a series of punches flush onto Vince's face, with Vince providing the oversell. Zach tries to whip Vince cross-corner, but Vince reverses and Zach flies into the buckle. Vince lifts Zach up by the leg and spins him in a giant swing, then tosses him out of the ring.

Vince rolls to the outside and taunts the crowd. He tries to pick up Zach, who lowblows Vince. Vince crumples to the ground, and Zach leaps up onto the apron and moonsaults him. Both men are down, but Zach rolls in first. Tim White starts the count, but as soon as Vince hears "9", he glares back at the ref, who pretends to be distracted by Zach. Vince makes it back in. He stares at Zach. They lock up, but Vince lifts Zach in the air and tosses him back into the corner, showing off his guns. Zach pulls himself up and clotheslines Vince. He hops to the top rope and delivers a missile dropkick for a slow two.

Zach gives the ref a funny look, then tries to pick Vince up. He gets a kneelift, then rolls up and delivers an elbowdrop. With Vince down, Zach returns to the top rope, only to get tossed off by Vince and through the Spanish announcer's table. Vince then orders the referee not to count. He waves to the back, and Big Show and A-Train emerge.

Show picks Gowen out of the wreckage and tosses him over the top rope from the floor. Tim White goes to ring the bell for a DQ, but Vince stops him and orders him not to. White protests, so A-Train gives him a Derailer. The triple-team continues until Kurt Angle charges the ring to a monster reaction. Big Show gets an overhead suplex, A-Train gets the Angle Slam, and Kurt helps Zach up. Kurt knocks Vince down and hands his leg to Zach. Zach applies the ankle lock as the crowd goes crazy. Mike Chioda runs to the ring to check on Vince, but Big Show knocks him down, then grabs Angle for the choke slam.

I receive the signal from backstage and charge the ring. Big Show is stomping on Gowen in the ring as I starting landing soupbones all over Show's face. A-Train is up and lowblows me, causing me to double over. The duo throw me into the corner, where A-Train does the avalanche. Big Show follows and goes to the top, but I pick him up out of the corner and Last Ride him... onto Vince. A-Train charges and gets a Tombstone for his trouble, but as I turn around, Eddie Guerrero runs in and clocks me with the US title belt. I slowly stand up and chase Eddie to the back as everyone in the ring is down.

Jack Doan enters and tries to restore order, tossing A-Train from ringside. Angle clotheslines Big Show over the top as Zach heads outside. Doan is distracted by Angle and tries to get him out of the ring as Zach returns with his other leg. He slugs it over Vince's head, knocking him down again. He covers, but only gets two. Vince yells at Doan, then points to the other referees, who are slowly getting up. Vince shoves Doan, and when Doan goes for the DQ, Vince clocks him. White and Chioda drag Doan out of the ring, and all three exit. With Brian Hebner out, who's left?

Vince turns around and boots Gowen in the head, then clobbers him a few times with the prosthesis. Vince struts around the ring as the crowd chants "Asshole" again. With no ref, he can continue to destroy Zach, then declare himself the winner. Vince picks Zach up and gives him a Stunner. He goes to do it again, but Zach is dead weight. Vince tries another time, but Zach flops down again. So Vince covers and starts to count his own pin, but even then Zach is up at two to Vince's shock.

Vince's Adam's apple bobs. He stares at this punk kid with one leg. He goes to the top rope and mocks Hogan's taunts, then dives off with a legdrop attempt. Zach rolls away, and Vince crashes to the mat. Zach is up and hits a seated dropkick on Vince. He climbs back to the top, and unlike at Vengeance, the corkscrew moonsault connects. He covers, and as he does, Michael Cole runs in from the announce table. He unbuttons his jacket... and reveals a SmackDown! ref's shirt!! He counts!! 1....2....3!!!!!!

Back in the dressing room, the locker room cheered wildly. All of them were into the drama of the match. An impromptu "Michael Cole" chant broke out. Much to the amazement of everyone, we had yet another candidate for show-stealer. Torrie tapped me on the shoulder.

"Did we have a bad match at all?"

"I don't think so."

As the show goes off the air, there is no commentary. Cole and Tazz hold Zach Gowen on their shoulders and parade him around ringside as the crowds chants "Gowen! Gowen!"

[nabeel]

Yes! I can finally read what happened in the end. nd who were the contestants of WM Battle Royal

[The Third Dukes]

Before I return to your regularly scheduled program, here's a SPECIAL BONUS~!

- The SmarK Retro Rant for SummerSlam 2003.

- Live from Phoenix, AZ.

- Your hosts are JR and Lawler for the RAW matches, Cole and Tazz for the SmackDown matches, and Josh Matthews and Coach providing the general hosting duties. This concept never really went anywhere, but it was a nice change of pace, that's for sure.

- Opening match: World Tag Team titles: La Résistance v. Dudley Boyz. Basically, the Dudleyz had to win the titles at some point given the buildup, and common sense said it was here and now. It's a huge brawl to start, and Grenier nearly gets 3-D'd right off the bat. D-Von is doubled on the outside, and Dupree gets a rollup back in for two. Grenier with the armbar, into a hammerlock, as D-Von is YOUR Yankee-in-peril. Dupree gets the OUTRAGEOUS FRENCH DANCE~! on the apron as Grenier drops the leg for two. Dupree in, and the armwork continues. D-Von uses the bad arm on a lariat, then armdrags abound. And more dancing. Dancing rules. Double DDT gets two for Grenier. D-Von follows Grenier up with a superplex, hot tag Bubba. DOUBLE NOGGIN KNOCKER OF DOOM follows, and the Dudz hit the Whazup Drop. Tables are not fetched (the Dudleyz came to the ring with a table painted in French colors just for effect -- this becomes important later). It's BONZO GONZO as D-Von loses his grip on 3-D and Grenier gets two. Dupree with a Victory Roll on Bubba for two. Saving Grace gets two. Grenier brings the belt in but hits Dupree, and D-Von covers for the pin and the titles at 10:51. Everything it had to be, which is usually more than you expect from the WWE. *3/4

- Randy Orton v. Kevin Nash. This was Orton's first hint that he'd be doing the "next big thing" gimmick he's in now, while Kev was basically playing out the string at this point. Orton chops away as Nash oversells for a few seconds. Suplex gets two, and they work a headlock. Nash with a backdrop and framed elbows in the corner, but Flair trips him up. Orton capitalizes with a Play of the Day for two. Neckbreaker gets two, and we HIT THE CHINLOCK. Orton goes CLUBBERIN, THEY BE CLUBBERIN, TONY. Man, has Randy ever improved thanks to a series of matches with Benoit and Michaels. Sidewalk slam by Big Lazy gets two. Snake Eyes, but Orton reverses a powerslam for two. Nash boots down Orton, but the Poochiebomb is blocked and the ref is bumped. Flair enters with a chair, so Nash boots it into his face, but Orton gets the RKO on said chair for the pin at 5:25. Better days were ahead for ol' Randy, as the RNN segment improved his mic skills while opponents who gave a damn made him better for it. In fact, the next night he would have an outstanding match with RVD where you could tell Flair's influence was rubbing off on him. Nash, meanwhile, was going nowhere and even he knew it, as he basically disappeared soon after this and re-appeared for WrestleMania. 1/4*

- WWE Tag Team Titles, ladder match: World's Greatest Tag Team v. Billy Kidman and Rey Misterio. After these two teams tore the house down at Vengeance, it made sense to put them against each other again. The ladder stip was added on Heat prior to this, with the WWE even admitting they wanted a show-stealer. And boy, did they get one. Everyone pairs off to start, and Shelton takes Kidman out of the ring onto the ladder (one on each side). Haas gets a German on Rey, and the WGTT hits their leapfrog choke. Kid Krusher for Haas, but Shelton superkicks him and here comes Ladder #1. Rey gets a somersault dropkick of the ladder into Shelton as Kidman hits a top rope rana on Haas. The ladder officially enters the ring, and Haas gets battering rammed by it. Shelton dumps Rey and fights with Kidman over the ladder, doing the old "let go as opponent yanks back" trick as Kidman slams the ladder into his own ribs. Shelton grabs the ladder, so Rey hits a Fameasser on Shelton onto it. Ladder #2 enters courtesy Haas, and Rey and Haas both take headers into it. Kidman tries to set up a ladder, so Haas suplexes him in such a way that the ladder crashes onto Kidman. Rey hits the rana on Haas, using Shelton as a springboard, as Kidman tries to set the ladder up in the corner. Haas throws Kidman into Shelton's boot, and the Doomsday Device is teased. However, Kidman slides off Shelton's back as Rey arrives to give Shelton Poetry in Motion, sending Shelton into the ladder and Haas crashing down. The choreography here is astounding. The challengers try to climb the ladders together, but Shelton knocks them both to the floor. Haas goes for the belts, but Rey returns with Ladder #3 and knocks over Haas's ladder with a straight shot. Rey and Shelton set up, but Kidman yanks Shelton away and the Filthy Animals get stereo ranas. Kidman now climbs the middle ladder, but Haas Germans him off and suplexes the ladder onto him. Rey sends Haas out of the ring, but Shelton tilt-a-whirl slams Rey. Shelton and Kidman race for the top, but Rey recovers and clotheslines Shelton from ladder to ladder as everything crashes. Haas brings in Ladder #4 and pounds Rey with it. Kidman dropkicks the ladder into Haas, and Shelton and Kidman get really inspired and do the duelling chairs bit with the ladders. Haas and Rey break it up, and Rey with the West Coast Hop on Shelton as everyone's down. WGTT set up a ladder bridge (ripping off WM2K, but who's counting?), but the challengers drag them down and the bridge is still in place. Shelton knocks Kidman down, but YOU CAN'T POWERBOMB KIDMAN -- not even on a ladder. Kidman dislodges the ladder bridge, which lands on Haas. The Animals set it back up and Rey walks, but Shelton pulls Rey into a crotch job. Haas climbs a ladder, but the FAs hit the Hop-Up Rana on him. Kidman tries to build the bridge by himself, but Shelton stops him. Rey and Haas fight on the inside as we get DOUBLE VISION to follow the action. On the outside, Kidman gets sent to the post, but nails a ladder shot to put Benjamin onto the Dudleyz' table, which if you recall was never used. Kidman brings the ladder back into the ring and goes for a SSP off the ladder to the outside through the table onto Shelton, who moves as Kidman splats through the table. Meanwhile, Rey and Haas are trying to climb the bridge, but Shelton takes the shortcut of pulling himself up from underneath. He grabs the belts as the structure collapses, and while normally this would leave someone just hanging around, Shelton manages to undo the straps and get the belts at a whopping 27:49. Everyone was headed for greatness after this, but with WGTT holding the tag belts and Rey holding the Cruiser title, the only man left to reward was Kidman. Result: a long US title reign, while Haas and Shelton flirted with main event status and got a series of matches with the top names on SmackDown. Rey used the Cruiser belt to elevate Noble, but ultimately the Animals were best as a team, which is why they're the tag champs now. At any rate, not too many matches are left that actually re-invent their genre, but the ladder bridge and duelling ladders have appeared on indy shows since this, so this is truly an historic occasion and worthy of the full monty. *****

- Inter-Promotional Brawl: Stephanie McMahon, Chris Benoit, Big Show, A-Train, and John Cena v. Eric Bischoff, Test, Hurricane, Goldust, and Rob Van Dam. I wonder if they'll bring this back next year. This, of course, is total filler to get the crowd off their buzz, as faces and heels are mixed on the same team and you might as well have a neon sign reading "cluster". A huge brawl triggers RVD's entrance. Bodies go flying out of the ring, and RVD, Hurricane, Bischoff (via Benoit), and Benoit set off the trainwreck sequence. Hurricane and Cena start what begins to resemble a tag match, as Hurricane gets the Shining Wizard for two. Stephanie in, but Hurricane won't harm a lady. Or Steph, for that matter. Bischoff enters as the two GMs go at it. Benoit and Cena jump in to help, as Benoit lights Bischoff up with a chop before everyone jumps back in. Things get re-organized as RVD and Benoit start, and Benoit gets the rolling Germans. Hurricane blocks the diving headbutt as RVD kicks Benoit and Goldust gets a powerslam for two. Benoit with the Crossface, but Test breaks him up before A-Train pump kicks him. Hurricane enters (legally?) and crossbodies Benoit for two. Cena in, and he and Hurricane fubar the Remix for a double KO. Cena sends Hurricane out, so Goldust gets an inverted DDT on Cena, so Show boots Goldust, so RVD kicks down Show, so A-Train pump kicks RVD as tags are being replaced by people jumping in and out. Snake Eyes gets two for Train. F-U is blocked, and enter Test. Test with the pumphandle slam on Cena for two. Hurricane ranas Cena for two. Crossbody gets two. Goldust tries the Shattered Dreams, but Show saves Cena's bacon. Benoit in with a Sharpshooter, and Bischoff saves. They try again, but Goldust rolls him up, and Cena and RVD push the pile back and forth so everyone gets a couple twos. Show and Test slug it out, and Show with a legdrop for two. Cena tries whatever off the top rope, but runs into the Boot for two. Bischoff with a superkick for two, and he taunts Stephanie, so Cena rolls him up for two. Everyone hits their finishers in rapid succession, ending with Benoit getting the Crossface on Test for the tapout at 18:01. Total mess, but some fun moments within it. *1/2

- Intercontinental Title: Booker T v. Chris Nowinski. Chris Nowinski as a legitimate title contender -- those were the days. Nowinski takes advantage of a clean break and smacks Booker around. Nowinski stops short on a blind charge, cuz he's smart and went to Harvard and all, so Booker kicks him down. Booker punches Nowinski in his facemask (Nowinski was milking a facial injury that may or may not persist to this day), and Booker gets the worst of it. Nowinski works over Booker's hand and arm, but Booker recovers and lariats down Nowinski. Teddy Long takes a shot from the bad hand, so Nowinski suplexes Booker for two. Nowinski works on the hand and gets a hammerlock. Booker reverses to the Book End, but Rodney Mack drops Booker's arm on the ropes and Nowinski gets the Cactus DDT for two. Nowinski turns a test of strength into a submission hold -- was Chris a psychology major at Harvard? -- but Booker dumps him on a leverage move. Nowinski brings the ref over, claiming injury, but it's all a NEFARIOUS PLOT as Jazz uses a chair on Booker's hand. Nowinski with move #647 (ARM-bar) and a slam try, but Booker scores an inverted DDT and kneedrop for two. Nowinski uses the FACIAL APPLIANCE OF DOOM on Booker's hand, going for a short-arm scissors. Booker tries the Bob Backlund counter, so Nowinski reverses to a judo throw for two. Hiptoss is blocked, though, and it's lariat, axe kick, Spinaroonie, leg lariat, good night at 8:45. Rodney Mack gets a Book End for fun. Decent match. *3/4

- WWE Title: Kurt Angle v. Brock Lesnar. I think they're doing the same thing this year, too -- saving Angle's big rematch until SummerSlam -- although Kurt has a lot on his plate as of right now, and I have no clue which way he's going. Both men go all-out amateur to start, each getting a few counts on the other. The crowd applauds this as both stand up. Kurt tries a German, but Brock pounds and gets an overhead suplex, twice. Now Brock tries a German, so Kurt goes Olympic on him, but Brock hits a very un-Olympic Steinerline. Kurt questions Brock, but Brock's blind charge misses and Kurt gets a rollup for two. Back to the overhead toss by Brock. Slam and Patriot Missile gets two. Kurt gets a small package out of a suplex for two. Brock with the shoulder thrusts on Kurt, and sends him all around the ring, so Kurt jumps onto the turnbuckle and tries a Tornado DDT. Brock blocks, so Kurt switches to rolling verticals, and HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERE'S Vince! Kurt is distracted, and Brock gets an F-5 for two. Brocklock is blocked into a swinging neckbreaker by Kurt. Overhead toss and Brock is to the outside. Kurt suplexes him back in for two. Brock grabs Kurt off the top rope with a German for two. Northern Lights suplex by Kurt gets two. Olympic Slam bumps the ref, so Vince takes over. The cover.... gets........ two. Brock rolls Kurt up for two. Brock stops a cradle and overhead suplexes Kurt as the ref is back. Both refs argue as Brock covers Kurt for nothing. Vince leaves as Brock calls to the ref, so Angle slaps on the Angle lock and drags Brock around. Vince blasts Angle with a chair as the ref checks Brock for a tapout, and an F-5 finishes at 18:54 for the title. Brock shakes Vince's hand, cementing the heel turn, as Vince gets in a few cheap shots on Kurt for good measure. Ending blew chunks, but the match before it was pretty sweet. ***1/2

- WWE US Title: Eddie Guerrero v. Undertaker. This match has taken on rather legendary status thanks to the career path Eddie took after the match, especially since at the time everyone was certain Taker would squash Eddie and lose via screwy fashion. Both men are insanely over. Eddie's Lo Rider does a hit-and-run on Taker's bike, and Taker is PISSED. He tosses Eddie around and sends him into the ring. Eddie begs off and goes low, then follows with a sunset flip for one. Monkey flip by Eddie (and Taker nearly lands on his -- eep!) and a rana gets two. Taker tosses Eddie, and a flying clothesline follows. Eddie with a DDT, suplex, and slingshot senton for two. Taker with a bulldog and face wash, and the two collide for a double KO. Eddie charges but flies out of the ring onto the car roof, so Taker walks the ropes and dives. Eddie escapes and Taker crashes through the car windshield. It was pretty clear by now that SmackDown was having some one-upsmanship contest. Taker blades (.6 Muta) and Eddie works on the cut before Taker suplexes Eddie onto the hood. Both men recover as we see replays of the dive. Eddie spits rubbing alcohol in Taker's face, and a blinded Taker Tombstones the ref, thinking it's Eddie. Yeah, they look so much alike. Eddie attacks back in the ring, but Taker figures out his target and tosses Eddie, and into the crowd they go. They go for the production tower, where Eddie blocks a chokeslam. Eddie makes the crow's nest, and Taker follows, only to be chaired back down. Taker sits back up (showing signs of the Deadman) and chases back up, but Eddie chairs him all the way off the tower and dives after him with a Frog Splash in a direct homage to Taker/HHH at X-7. Hey, whatever works. EMTs bring a stretcher, so Taker uses it like it's a ladder in a tag title match. Back to ringside, and Taker chokes Eddie by the post, so Eddie goes low. Into the railing, worsening the cut, and back in where the Frog Splash misses. Taker covers, but the ref is legally dead, so it doesn't matter. Taker tries to revive the ref, but no dice. Eddie dives onto Taker from the top, then uses the hood ornament to worsen Taker's cut to .8 Muta. That's one hell of a cut there, really. A second ref enters, so Taker steals the ornament and bumps him with it. back in, Eddie clips Taker and pounds him, but Taker gets the chokeslam. He goes for the Last Ride as Chioda says the hell with it at 23:00 or so. Eddie reverses to a rana and El Paso Lasso, but Taker kicks off. Eddie reverses a Taker Tombstone (!) into one of his own (!!), but Taker sits up and both men fight like there's no tomorrow while the refs try in vain to separate them. This match pretty much sent Eddie into the stratusphere and indicated he was accepted as a World Title threat. Dropping the US title became a formality, and Taker put him over in a cage match at No Mercy. It was all straight up from there. ***

- World Title: HHH v. Goldberg. Common sense said Goldberg won here, but RAW never was about common sense. Goldberg wins a slug-out and goes for the spear, but hits the post. HHH works the arm, but Goldberg fights out of it. HHH USES THE KNEE~!, but Goldberg kips up and lariats HHH. So much for the arm. They slug it out again, and HHH wins with a facebuster. More punching, but Goldberg gets a shoulderblock. Off to ringside for more punching. This was the first sign something was rotten -- neither man seemed motivated to get a good match. HHH with a suplex for one. Goldberg press slams HHH, but a blind charge misses. Pedigree is reversed to a backdrop, and the spear cues Flair. Goldberg spears and Jackhammers Flair, so HHH uses the SLEDGEHAMMER OF DEATH for the win at 6:34. Turns out HHH used his creative control to keep Goldberg from winning, and Goldberg became so pissed that he left the company soon after. And really, can you blame him? DUD

- Main event, Double or Nothing: Vince McMahon v. Zach Gowen. That's right -- THIS is your main event. The specter of Hogan looms over this match, as if Gowen wins, Hogan is back, whereas if Vince wins, Gowen is gone. Vince reminds Tim White who the boss is and implies White's job is on the line. Vince kicks Zach's leg out of his leg and applies a leglock, but Zach makes the ropes and Vince reluctantly breaks. Zach with a dropkick and spinkick, followed by a series of punches in the corner. Vince reverses a corner whip and spins Zach around in a giant swing to the outside. Zach gets a low blow and moonsault, and Vince is almost counted out before White remembers who the boss is. Vince wins the LOCKUP OF DOOM but gets clotheslined. Missile dropkick by Zach gets a slow two. Kneelift and elbowdrop by Zach, but Vince sends Zach through the Spanish announce table and waves in Big Show and A-Train. Show retrieves Gowen, and Vince orders white not to call a DQ. A-Train gets the Meshugganator on White to hammer the point home. Now Kurt Angle runs in and cleans house, even helping Zach give Vince an ankle lock. Mike Chioda runs in to check the submission, but Show bumps him and chokeslams Angle. Taker enters and punches away on Show, so Train low blows him and the double team continues. Big Show climbs in the corner, so Taker gives the Last Ride, squashing Vince in the process. Tombstone for A-Train, but Eddie enters and gets a beltshot on Taker as everyone goes to the back and Jack Doan enters. Zach uses his fake leg behind the ref's back, and it gets two. Vince takes out his frustrations on Doan, knocking him down, and the refs all take a walk. Vince kicks Gowen and uses his leg against him. Stunner by Vince, but Zach sandbags to avoid another, and Vince covers, counting his own pin -- and still only getting two. Diving legdrop (mocking Hogan) misses, and Zach dropkicks Vince and nails the corkscrew moonsault, getting the pin (counted by emergency referee Michael Cole) at 17:29, about 10:00 of which was one-on-one. Crowd loves it, which is all that mattered. Hogan wound up being a huge asset when he returned, making Rhyno a superstar and being the catalyst for the Angle/Eddie double turn that set up WrestleMania. Gowen did next to nothing the rest of his time in the WWE, but hey, he served his purpose, much like this match. *

The Bottom Line:

The tag title match makes this an automatic recommendation, and the US title match is worth a look for a piece of bizarre history. The rest is crap, with HHH/Goldberg particularly inexcusable, and SmackDown! was running circles around RAW at this time. The solution? A trade, as Benoit went to RAW the next night and improved things almost overnight.

But that's another show.

Anyway, this one proves that RAW has come a long way and thus is a curiosity on that level, plus the SmackDown! matches deliver in spades (with an average of *** for their side, almost unheard-of). The brawl is a nice novelty match, and once a year is good enough for them, so really, there's something for almost everyone.

Strongly recommended.

[The Third Dukes]

Ah, the post-SummerSlam meeting. This was my chance to introduce a few new characters into the mix, including the RAW intermediary. Shawn Michaels was the obvious choice, and at this point in my writing, I didn't feel comfortable enough to do other than the obvious. This would explain how Andy conveniently was Undertaker when that was the main subplot.

Greg was intentionally nebulous at first, just another guy. As time went on, I began to re-invent him, but never really completely fleshed him out, I feel. He was kind of there the whole time, really, because I needed another character and didn't have the desire to invent one. His co-worker on RAW, however, I had no trouble with.

This also marked my first use of dreams. Originally, their sole purpose was to provide a warning when a dangerous situation was coming up. Eventually, however, the purpose changed. It became a way for me to have the Angels be themselves without ditching them in Recovery for weeks at a time. That's how the Dream Tunnel came about, actually. But for now, it was a way to warn Andy about his future assignment, one for which he'd need a warning for sure.

*****

Chapter 12

The Other Guys

Sunday, August 24, 2003, 11:58 PM

Phoenix, AZ

Vince McMahon had addressed us after SummerSlam to let us know he thought the event was one of the best in company history. He gave us the night to ourselves, and told the RAW group they could take their usual Tuesday meeting off. We were all to travel together for the next two days to celebrate. He also said that each of us would get a cut of the buyrate who had performed, and the four men in the ladder match were getting a bonus equivalent to two weeks' worth of pay for the best match of the night. After that, we were dismissed. That was three hours ago.

Now, Paul had called us into the conference room as soon as we got back to the hotel. He pulled his card out and slid it into the door lock on his hotel room. We entered, only to find a group of people already there. Christian, Rene Dupree, and Shawn Michaels were seated at the table. All three got up as we entered.

"Hey, wait a second," I blurted out. "How'd they get in here?"

"Relax, please," said Heyman. "They're with us."

"With us?"

"Yeah. These are the guys who work with Vince on the RAW side of things. We're here to talk about how things are going on both sides."

Lindsay immediately sat down next to Rene, while Kathleen hesitated. In the end, I moved over next to Christian, while Paul and Kathleen walked close to us. Kathleen nervously took a seat next to Lindsay. Paul and Shawn walked up to the front of the table.

"Wait a second," said Dupree. "Is he...?"

"I am," said Paul. "And for Andy's sake, Shawn here is the guy you would go to on RAW. After the roster split up, I was busy trying to be on both shows at once. Managing Brock Lesnar seemed to allow me to bounce from show to show, since he would be used as a top contender and later the Undisputed Champion. But then HHH made the decision to have two shows, two champions. So I needed help."

"That's where I came in," Michaels continued. "I was visited by an angel the night after SummerSlam and told my services would be needed. When she explained that people were working on trying to save Vince, I was all for it. I just never thought it would be like this. It's been a year since I began my job, and I must say I have no regrets about doing it. God chose me, and I praise Him for believing in me."

Wow, he sounds like a convert. I guess when you fall to the bottom and find yourself back on top, you would put everything in the thing that got you there, whether it's a religious life or a new friend. I just never thought of that.

"Now, I'm aware that some of you have never been in contact with the other group. In particular, each of us has a new recruit here. So that's why we're meeting. It's to get everyone on the same page, basically. Either of you two have any questions?"

I looked over at Rene. He said nothing at first, then slowly began to peak. "Well... I was just wondering... am I here for the long haul? Do I ever switch over to SmackDown!?"

"You might," said Shawn. "The last thing we need is to make people complacent. Complacency leads to a sense of forgetting why you are here. We can't have that happen. So, in the near future it may be necessary to switch some of you around."

I spoke up. "Do you want us to focus on the roster or on Vince? Which is a bigger commitment?"

"Well, it's like this," said Paul. "Anyone you can get is just fine. There will be some weeks where you don't get the chance to change Vince's mind on anything. Some weeks, you'll be stuck working with the workers only. Other times, you'll have a very specific instruction. If you wake up and you're someone's brother, sister, parent, child, husband, or wife, it might be because God believes you can do your best work on that one person. But for the most part, if you can talk to Vince, try to make him a better person."

Shawn added, "That's part of the advantage of switching around that you guys have. The more people Vince thinks he's hearing it from, the more likely he is to accept it. It's still a long shot in most cases -- I mean, Paul and I have his ear, but you guys -- well, just do what you can."

Christian spoke up. "And guys, just remember this: as much as you may not have liked someone before, when you deal with or become that person, you have to put those differences aside. It's something I learned the hard way, and it's something you'll have to learn eventually. It's a difficult task, but I think you are all up to it."

Lindsay, as Josh, added, "I can tell you all right now that what happened this week was a prime example. On SmackDown! right now, I'm working with two relatively new people for whom this was their first Pay-Per-View experience. Both of them were in positions where they could speak to Vince, and he would listen. Well, I watched what they were doing, and Vince was listening. It may not have been directly about himself, but it was progress."

"And really, progress is all we can ask for," continued Shawn. "Vince isn't going to change overnight. Not too many people do. I know I didn't. Plus, everyone goes to their own time, and Vince is on his own time. It may have taken me a couple years and a marriage to a wonderful person before I realized I needed to change my ways, but for someone like Vince -- I mean, it's been almost ten years and we're still fighting. Just remember, it does no good for you to go all-out. You have to chip away at his armor. There will be setbacks, and there will be victories. But I don't want to hear of anyone giving up."

"Now," said Paul, "are there any more concerns? Anything you think we should know about?"

I guess Shawn should know, if he doesn't already...

"Actually, Paul... while I was backstage I found I had kept my glasses with me, so I looked around with them. I didn't see who everyone here is, but I did notice one person on RAW whose appearance surprised me. I know you said not to bring them, but I..."

"It's all right. It was a rookie mistake. Who was it?"

"It was Mol... Nora. She... uh... she was dark and featureless when I looked at her. It was like someone had taken a picture and colored her in in gray and black. I didn't know what it was."

Shawn and Paul looked at each other. Shawn nodded.

"Okay, I've been told of that condition before... I just didn't think it was around now," he said. "I saw this in someone in the audience when we were at a live RAW one time. I prayed for an answer as to what it was... heck, I had no idea people could be that way. Basically... the answer is... her soul is in trauma."

"Trauma?" asked Rene and Kathleen simultaneously.

"Yeah. It means something bad has happened or is happening to her. Whatever it is, it's something she doesn't deserve, and it's very serious. She's being victimized... I just wish I knew how. But we need to get her help if that's the case. I was told that victims are at a higher risk for suicide than most people."

"Shawn," said Rene, "let me work on it. Whoever I am, I'll talk to her."

"Good luck," I said. "I couldn't get her to talk to me about it. Heck, I tried to tap her on the shoulder and she freaked out."

"Greg," said Shawn, "if you think you can do anything, go right ahead. Vince is likely to be taking this week off the road after the match, so I guess we can all work on individuals. Paul, what do you think?"

"Sounds good to me."

"Okay then. I guess I have nothing else to add, so if you want to get to know each other, now's the time to do it."

We began to get into little conversations. Greg -- Rene -- was talking to Kathleen, and the two seemed to be vaguely familiar with each other. Lindsay walked up to discuss things with Shawn and Paul. I turned to Christian.

"So, I guess you've figured out I'm new here."

"Yeah, it was kind of obvious. But that's okay. What's your real name?"

"Andy. I got here about three weeks ago. The sniper hit me. At least, that's what they said."

"Oh yeah... heard about you. Tough break, man. But at least you're a big-name celebrity now."

"Hardly. I'm six feet under."

"It doesn't matter, man. Fame is eternal. You're the man now!"

"Are you pulling my leg?"

He paused for a few seconds. "Actually, yes. I mean, I was tryin' to cheer you up."

"I'm fine, man. I think I can get used to this."

"Hey... we all have that moment when it sinks in. Right now, you probably feel like this is all kinda surreal. Trust me, I've been here over 4 years. Eventually, the surreal thing goes away and you just get lost in who you are each week."

"Yeah, Lindsay told me about that. That people would bail out to Recovery when they needed time to be used to themselves."

"Right... for me it was a little harder the first few weeks, to be honest. I had a lot of emotions in this. I had to fight sabotaging this campaign for almost two months!"

"Why? Why would you want to send Vince to Hell?"

"Because... well, because his family and my family don't get along. And in fact, when Shawn here was named an intermediary, it took a while to convince me to go forward. I couldn't forgive him for some of his actions."

"Some of his actions? What did he ever do to you?"

"It's not what he did to me, but he was Vince's pet, and he was always there to talk Vince into keeping up something or another against my family. I got sick of it. But that was so long ago... anyway, the point is, it's hard to be yourself and do this job at the same time. One day, you're going to need time off. Just don't be afraid to ask for it. That's why there's so many of us."

I didn't answer. A lot of things were running through my head. His family doesn't like the McMahons. He couldn't work here a few weeks after his death. He didn't like Shawn... those traits all sound really familiar...

"What's on your mind, Andy?"

"I don't know who you are, but I feel like I should."

"Go ahead and look. You'll know."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my glass case. At the same time, Christian slipped his glasses on.

"You know, Andy, you look like you could've been a good wrestler."

"Thanks."

I unfolded the glasses. For some reason, my moves were rather deliberate. I was having trouble maneuvering around. That match must've been harder than I thought.

"Tired?"

"I guess so. I'm just sore."

"Don't worry about it. Long matches take a time to get used to."

"How long after you died did you need?"

"Actually, not long at all."

"Why not?"

"Just put them on, man, you'll see."

I finally put them on and looked up. A man in his mid-thirties was staring back at me. His blond hair was in a bowl cut around his head. His nose looked like it had been broken a few times. His bright blue eyes stood out, even behind the glasses, with a passion for life. His mouth curled into a smile as he saw me look at him -- a smile I'd seen several times from a distance, but only how had the pleasure of seeing upfront.

I laughed. He smiled. Kathleen looked over. "What's so funny, guys?"

"Don't you know who this is?"

"No..."

"Check it out."

Shawn saw Kathleen put her glasses on. I could tell he was smiling the smile of a parent whose 12-year-old daughter is attending an N'Sync concert. It was a smile that said, "These people are happy, and I'm happy for them."

Kathleen's jaw dropped. She squealed and slid over the table. She gave him a big hug. "I can't believe it! I've heard so much about you!"

"Hey, easy, easy," he replied. "Don't get too emotional."

"Sorry..."

"It's all right, but... man... you don't know how strong you are now!"

We all laughed until Paul broke up the merriment. "Guys, we've been in here about 30 minutes. We should head back so that we all get some sleep and can wake up on time tomorrow. Now, I've reserved Van 7 for myself and Shawn, so tomorrow, make sure to go to that one. All right? Good. Group dismissed."

Greg and Lindsay headed for the door. Kathleen and I went up to Shawn and Paul, smiles across our faces.

"Man, why didn't you tell us about him?"

"Because I didn't want you guys to be anxious to see him. He's only going to be around for a few days anyhow before we split up again. Just get some sleep... you guys can talk in the morning."

"All right, Mr. Heyman."

"Sure thing, Paul."

Kathleen bounded out the door. I turned around and removed my glasses. Christian was right behind me, ready to return to the real world -- his world.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, I'll see you too."

"You know, I'm glad we got to meet."

"It'll be fun. See you tomorrow, Andy. Good night."

"Good night, Owen."

*****

I was myself again. I was standing at the Exxon station where I had been shot. As I pumped the gas, I saw a figure moving in the shadows. I stopped and looked for him. Nothing. I turned around and headed back to pumping gas.

Just then, I felt a hand grab me. I spun around and found myself face to face with a man bigger than I was and twice as mean. He wound his fist up and punched me once in the face. I went down, and the gas spilled on my left leg. He laughed as he produced a match.

"No... no... don't do this... please..." I begged.

"It has to be done," he sneered. He lit the match and dropped it. The flames consumed my leg, but nowhere else on my body. I yelled in pain and began to try to roll, only to find the gas fumes too strong. The flame kept re-igniting as the man stood there, not laughing or smiling, but just watching. I began to lose feeling in that leg. I saw skin fly off and bone take its place. I let out one final scream.

*****

I sat bolt upright in my bed. I looked at the clock. It was 7:55 AM. Sweat dripped down my face. I was short of breath. I looked for my glasses -- they were there, next to me on the table. I took a deep breath and flopped back onto the bed.

"Hey, you ok in there, buddy?"

A man emerged from around the corner. It was Shannon Moore, his toothbrush in his mouth, as he went through his morning routine. His blond hair was already pulled back behind his head as he checked in. He had a towel around his waist.

"Yeah... I'm fine... just a dream..." I sputtered. "Well, I guess it's time to get up anyway."

"Yeah it is. Hey, if you need any help gettin' around, just lemme know."

Need help getting around? "Okay, Shannon... but I guess I'll be fine."

"All right, dude."

I lay back in the bed for a while. What a crazy dream. Wait a second... I haven't had a dream of any sort since I died. Why am I having one now? Is there a message? I don't get it. Did the person I am have the dream, or did I?

Well, I guess there's no use thinking about it too much. Today's the start of a new week. I just gotta go through it one step at a time. As long as I can put one foot in front of the other, I'll do all right for myself.

I pulled the covers off of me and got out of bed. I grabbed my glasses and put them on, then started to walk over to the mirror. After a couple of steps, I fell flat on my face. The noise got Shannon's attention, as he ran over to help me up and sat me on the bed.

"Careful, man. You all right?"

"Yeah... I guess I wasn't as awake as I thought."

"Well, take it easy, bro. We got a free day ahead of us, and we wouldn't wanna see anyone get hurt outside the ring."

I sat there, wondering what had happened. How did I trip up? I was walking just

fine. I looked down at my body -- with the glasses on, I couldn't see any injury. I pulled the glasses off.

My breath shorted out. I had a lump in my throat. I suddenly realized why I had fallen down immediately. I also realized why I had had the dream I did. And most importantly, I realized that just putting one foot in front of the other wasn't happening this week.

I don't have a foot to put in front of the other!

No need to look in the mirror this time. There was only one person I could be. I was Zach Gowen.

[The Third Dukes]

This could best be one of the silliest chapters I'd written. Having established Owen Hart as a Fallen Angel, I knew he had one important thing to do. Anyone who knows Owen knows what it is, and I don't want to spoil it for those who haven't read Foley's books.

I also mixed up the rosters a bit here. I knew the two sides needed a trade to balance the talent out, and with my enjoyment of SmackDown! so far ahead of RAW, I needed a reason to like RAW again. That reason came in the trade I did here. It also helped that I was giving Randy Orton a push as a Ric Flair project, something which I still occasionally do. Heck, how hard is it to learn a figure-four anyway?

My biggest good-idea-I-could-never-get-anywhere debuts here, as I tried to think of some way, ANY way, to make Lance Storm useful. The whole thing wound up being a WrestleCrap-like joke, though, because I couldn't sustain momentum, but it was worth a shot.

There's a HUGE logical flaw in here that I would want to clean up. Lindsay proclaims that she's uncertain about the existence of Hell. As loyal BVS reader alumni know, not only is there a Hell, but Lindsay would have seen it several times already. Don't ask why I had her play dumb here. But that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

*****

Chapter 13

Together in Tuscon

Monday, August 25, 2003, 10:15 AM

Phoenix, AZ

I limped out of the hotel and headed to Van 7. My bag was over one shoulder, while a suitcase trailed on the ground on wheels behind me. Every other step was slow, deliberate, and frustrating. I was scared of delaying the group, so I had headed for the van early. Even then, my speed was severely hampered.

I dropped off my luggage in the trunk and staggered around to the front of the van. I held on to the side of the van as I scooted along, like a toddler taking his first steps. Every couple of steps, I attempted to let go of the side of the van and walk on my own. My right leg advanced normally, but the follow-through step invariably saw the prosthesis bend in ways a leg shouldn't. I would stumble into the van's side and be forced to start over.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, I made it to the passenger door. I pulled myself up the stairs and stared at the long alley leading between the four rows of seats. Shawn was talking to the driver near the back. His eyes were away from me, but he still heard me pull myself into the aisle. He quickly turned around and offered a hand.

"Hey, I thought you were coming on here."

He placed himself under my left shoulder and half-carried me to the back row. With his help, I sat down in a back seat, spread out across two chairs.

"Hey, driver... make sure you help this kid out when we get to Tuscon, ok?"

"Sure thing, Shawn."

The two continued their conversation outside the bus. I stared out the window at the other WWE superstars, who were co-ordinating a game of touch football in the parking lot. Rey ran a long fly pattern, and Kurt Angle threw a spiral to him that was just a little too high. Rey made a leaping catch in the end zone. I wish I could do that. Well, normally, I would.

As I sat in the back reading a book, I heard a scuffle outside. It was coming from the opposite side of the van, over by where Shawn and the driver had been talking. I tried to look in that direction, but my leg didn't fold enough to let me get out of the seat initially. Soon, I wouldn't need to get up; the problem came to me. Kane got on board, and he looked mad.

"There you are, you little punk!" His voice reverberated throughout the van.

Shawn climbed aboard in an attempt to hold him back, but Glen just shoved him aside. "You pathetic little man. Look how you got to where you are! You're here because God screwed up with you!"

"W-w-w-what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about that leg, Zach! I'm talking about how you're a WWE wrestler because you have one leg! Look at me! You don't see me taking advantage of the raw deal I was given!"

Wait a second... Kane got the raw deal, not Glen...

"Now, G-g-glen, just calm down..."

"I am KANE, dammit! And I will teach you who I am, and why I am! Look right here!"

He produced a book of matches from his pocket. My eyes grew wide. I didn't understand what was going on, but if Glen Jacobs really had lost sight of reality, I might die twice within one month.

"Kane... sir... what d-d-did I do to you?"

"It's what everyone did to me! You mock me! Your presence mocks me! I can't have that! You're going to have to pay!"

Shawn had finally spun him around. "GLEN! What the hell are you doing?"

Glen stared right through Shawn. "Do you know who I am?"

"I thought I did..."

"DO YOU KNOW... WHO I AM???" As he spoke, Glen pointed to his eyes. "Can you SEE who I have BECOME?"

"Get off this van right now!" Shawn yelled. "You have no right to be here!"

"You know I do, Shawn. Now, answer the question: Do you KNOW who I have BECOME?"

Shawn stared at Glen as an uneasy silence reigned for thirty seconds. Suddenly, it seemed a thought occurred to Shawn. He slowly reached for his pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses, much like the ones we had. Well, if Paul has them, I guess Shawn should too. He put them on. Immediately, he burst out laughing.

"What do you find so damn funny?" Glen demanded. "Are you mocking me?"

I searched for my glasses. As I pulled them out, Glen turned to me and roared. "Don't you dare! You don't deserve to know what I am!"

It was too late. I had put the glasses on. As I did, he smiled broadly. My fear left me, replaced with a combination of anger, relief, and laughter.

"Dammit, Owen, don't ever do that again!"

"I gotcha good, didn't I?"

I was speechless. Shawn, Owen, and I laughed for a minute solid. None of us could speak. I had gone from having the greatest scare in my life to having the closest feeling of kinship. Owen has to care for me, I figured, if he's willing to make me the butt of a joke.

We were still laughing when another person boarded the bus. It was Chavo Guerrero, his arm still in a brace as he sat down. He then stopped and looked and Glen. He panicked.

"Sorry, guys," he said. "I'm in the wrong place."

He hustled off the bus. Ummm, okay.

Meanwhile, I heard another, lighter pair of footsteps in the distance. I looked up to see Stacy enter the bus. She slowly walked her way to the back, looking down the whole time. Finally, she sat in front of me and smiled. "This is so much fun!" she said. I put my glasses on again. A man's face was looking back at me, covered in Stacy's makeup. He smiled and blew a kiss at me.

"Yecch! What the...?"

I quickly pulled the glasses off. It was Stacy again, giggling. Kane began to laugh loudly. "So Andy, I guess you've never been a Diva before? Don't worry, man. It'll happen to you soon. In the meantime, I don't think you two were officially intro'd. Andy, this is Greg. He's my partner over on the RAW side. Greg, this is Andy. He's the newest member of the force."

"Hi, Andy. Sorry to scare you like that. I just wanted to get a reaction out of somebody."

"It's all right, Greg. I'll... recover. But between you and Owen... sheesh."

"Actually, I'm kind of excited. I've never been a woman before."

"Really? Probably would explain your walk."

"What do you mean?"

"You were looking down at yourself the whole time, Greg," Owen chimed in. I slipped on my glasses -- now that the initial shock's over, I might as well know who I'm talking to -- and wondered why it was my SmackDown! brethren hadn't arrived yet. Looking around, everything seemed so strange. There was Greg, looking like a drag queen instead of one of the most beautiful people in wrestling; there was Owen, his eyes replaced by Kane's contact lenses; and there I was, with three legs -- my own, and the prosthesis. Welcome to my world.

"Is this seat taken?"

I was snapped out of my daydream by a familiar voice -- Big Show's. I looked up, expecting to be dwarfed by his presence, but instead found Lindsay smiling back at me. I quickly removed the glasses to get the view I expected.

"Um... is there room for both of us right now?"

"I think so. Here, let me help you with that." Show moved my leg and enabled me to bend it. I was now sitting facing forward, with almost no room thanks to being paired with a 500 pounder. "Wow, you got the short straw."

"How?"

"No one I know of has ever been Zach before."

Just what I need.

Shawn returned to the bus with the driver and with Paul. Paul gave the signal, and the doors closed. The bus started to pull out of the parking lot. I began counting. Hang on... one, two, three, four, five, six... shouldn't there be seven of us?

"Paul, wait!"

"No, no... everything's fine."

*****

01:17 PM

Tucson, AZ

The gang decided to stop for lunch before heading to the arena. We were in the IHOP outside of Tucson, enjoying a very large lunch. Poor Paul was forced to sit between Owen and Lindsay, which wouldn't have been bad if they weren't Kane and Big Show. On the opposite side, Shawn sat between myself and Greg -- er, Stacy. It must have been quite a sight, with the three largest people on one side of the table. "I think my lunch just gravitated your way, Paul," joked Shawn.

As we were finishing up, I tried to start a conversation with Paul. Quite frankly, something was on my mind, but I didn't know if it was appropriate here. Good thing we each have two names, or I think I'd go a little crazy.

"Say, Paul, I don't know if you heard, but a funny thing happened this morning."

"You mean what this guy did?" he asked, pointing at Kane all the time.

"No, but that was pretty good. Actually, it may have been something he did. All I know is, Chavo came on the bus, took one look at him, and hightailed it for the hotel. What did you do, man?"

"Nothing," said Kane, throwing his hands up. "Seriously, I just saw him there and he ran off."

Paul put his finger to his mouth. "We'll discuss this later."

Suddenly, I heard a series of familiar voices enter the restaurant. Andrew Martin (Test), Undertaker, Shannon Moore, Matt Hardy, Dustin Runnels (Goldust), and Eddie Guerrero all entered. Paul began to motion that there was space next to him. Uh, where? Management brought in a few more tables and we began a lengthy and enjoyable conversation. "Heck," Shawn pointed out, "Bell time ain't for another three hours anyway."

Halfway through, Test made a motion to our side of the table. "Hey, Shawn, may I sit there?" I looked to where he pointed. I can't imagine why he wants to-- oh, wait, Stacy. Shawn immediately agreed, and the laughter continued.

After another hour of conversation, the checks all arrived. Everyone reached for their respective pocketbooks, but Paul stopped me. "Remember," he whispered, "you guys are on me."

"Paul, where are you getting all this money from?" I wondered. "Money doesn't just come from Heaven, does it?"

"Don't worry about it. If I want to pay for a meal, I can, right?"

"All right."

Just then, I overheard a comment from across the table. "I got it, Eddie. After what you helped me do, you deserve it."

The voice was clearly Mark Calloway's.

*****

We were in the conference room at Tuscon. Lindsay and I sat next to each other, across from Paul. Shawn was talking to Greg and Owen elsewhere.

"Okay, guys, we're all here tonight, so you know what to do. Just play it calm, be yourselves, hang out with the SmackDown! guys, and be ready for anything that can come your way. Now, Andy, I've noticed you're a fast learner, and Lindsay -- well, you're really experienced in this, so I don't have many worries."

"Um, Paul..."

"Yeah, Lindsay?"

"Where's Kathleen?"

"Oh, she begged out this week. You see--"

"Wait a second. Begged out? But she's not allowed to do that!"

"Andy, let me explain. It hasn't been 18 years since she was born. That means she is still a child in our eyes. I can't make her do anything she doesn't want to -- if I did that, I'd be overstepping my authority. Point is, she's in Recovery right now, taking time off to be herself. Just remember, she is not your business. Vince is."

I bit my lip. Something just didn't make sense. What was with Kathleen? She got to choose? Eh, I guess if this were my first job I'd be nervous too.

My mind wandered back to her complaints from two weeks ago. She had talked about being alone -- not having any family, either her own or her parents'. She had no friends either. But that's not true. She does have friends. She has us, doesn't she? And Paul certainly is her friend. But do we count? Or are we just associates?

"Is something bothering you, Andy?"

I looked up. Lindsay and I were alone in the room. "Paul said I should wait until you were ready to leave. What's on your mind?"

"Lindsay, it's..." I can't tell her. Gotta think of something. "...I had a weird dream last night."

"You did? What was it?"

"Well, I was back where I died, and... this guy came out and set my leg on fire. After a while I couldn't feel anything. The thing is, I was me -- not Undertaker, not Zach, ME! I don't understand why I would dream if I don't have a mind to produce a subconscious and all that... psychobabble."

Lindsay shook her head. "You didn't really dream. You were given a heads-up."

I looked at her, confused. "A heads-up? I didn't get one when I started, or when I took any of my other jobs."

"I know, Andy. Sometimes, though... well, sometimes, something happens that you need to be warned of. Like for me... it was one of my first weeks on the job, and I was about to be the British Bulldog. Before the week started, I got this image of being surrounded by these shadows. I was swinging at them, but I couldn't faze them. One of them approached me and I felt myself fall flat. Then a series of impacts followed."

"Lindsay, if I can interrupt... that... that was a long time ago. How do you remember?"

"You don't forget. You'll never forget that image of your leg on fire. Anyway, the deal is, it was to warn me. Davey had just been attacked by a group of street thugs, and while his body hadn't shown any ill effects, his soul was victimized. I had to try to figure out how to make him move on from this instance."

"Did you?"

"Not in a week, no. What's worse, that violent moment just never left him. I began to see him talking and thinking in a more abusive manner. He was always causing trouble backstage, picking fights with people and yelling at anyone who disagreed. I don't know where he is now."

"Lindsay... he's dead."

"I mean... whether he's in Heaven... or... not."

"You mean he could be in Hell?"

"Andy, I'm not sure there is a Hell anymore. These things," she said as she disdainfully produced her glasses, "they've made me realize that we're in a very fragile state. If we die, and our soul is lost, does it ever appear? Think about it. When you look at Vince, you don't see anything. So if he died, would there be anything to go to Hell? Is there a Hell to go to?"

Silence.

"I... I don't know, Lindsay. I just think there is."

"Andy, I don't know either. But I know I'd rather be in Heaven than anywhere else when my time is up. And I want everyone to be there. Not just Vince -- and when he dies, whoever else I help -- but everyone. And I especially want myself to be there."

"But you will be there. Just stay healthy and when your time is up, your ticket is punched, isn't it?"

Lindsay didn't answer.

"You are going to Heaven, right?"

"Yes, I am... probably... as of now... but I... there's so much time. So many things can go wrong. And it's not just me. You could mis-step. Look what happened with that girl! I don't know if John's life will be the same. And he didn't do it -- you did!"

"But I... I tried to avoid it! I'm okay now, aren't I?"

"Andy, that's not it. The point is, every action you take has to be measured. Everything I do has to be carefully executed. Everything we do right now has to be selfless because we have no self. That's just the point."

I wiped my brow off, even though I wasn't sweating. Something about this conversation was more intense than any wrestling match I'd ever been in.

"So I can live on my own? This is it? I have to masquerade for the next however many months or years? Why did this happen? What's in it for me?"

She looked straight into my eyes. Even thought the glasses weren't on, I could see her staring at me through the window of Paul Wight's eyes.

"What's in it for you is eternal joy. What's in it for me is to be forever at peace."

Something in her voice -- even though it was delivered with Big Show's gruff baritone -- was more soothing than anything I had heard since St. Peter greeted me. The idea of being in Heaven was not just appealing, it was my goal. I just didn't understand why I had to jump through hoops to be there.

"Lindsay," I finally said after about a minute. "Why can't we just be us, just for a little while?"

"We can," she said. "Remember, Kathleen's being herself right now. And besides, do you really think Undertaker would say the things he said when you were he? You became Undertaker, but he became you."

"I... I'm confused."

"It's a hard balancing act. My first few months, I was confused too. I'm just glad I had some great people to guide me. Now I want to guide you. I care about you."

"You do?"

"We all do. Now, come on. We have a lot of living left to do."

She placed her mammoth arm around my shoulder. The warmth in her embrace --even if it wasn't from her directly -- made me realize that my worries probably were for naught.

"Let's go."

And off we went, a seven-footer with an earring and a tiger tattoo next to a tiny twentysomething with one leg. We may have been an odd couple, but we were together, and that was all that mattered.

As Big Show and I left the conference room, I saw Shawn approach us out of the corner of my eye. I told Show to wait up and turned around to face him. Shawn's face seemed to tell the whole story. He was upset, as if he loathed this part of the assignment.

"Guys," he said, as if struggling to find the words, "Paul and I just got word that there's going to be a trade on the air."

I was nonplussed. "So?"

"Well... it involves Big Show."

Show's face went limp. He seemed incapable of handling the thought. I looked up at him for a reaction, but got none. I turned back to Shawn. He was trying to maintain his composure. I felt a tear run down my cheek, in anticipation of the worst.

"Shawn... does that mean...?"

"Yeah. We have to switch up with them. Now, we wanna keep the numbers the same, but there's no one who's really coming back in the trade. I don't know how we'll handle this. It's... Andy, can you go it alone this week?"

I was stunned. I hadn't even been on the job a month, and they wanted to know if I could do this without help. I didn't know how to reply. My throat was dry, and my hands shook. This was a lot of responsibility without a guiding hand... wait, I have a guiding hand, don't I?

"Shawn... I won't be alone. Paul will be with me, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Forgot about him. Man, this is hard. I mean, we're trying to see how we can work this out so that we get the numbers back to where they belong. I'll keep you updated. In the meantime..."

He pulled out his card and walked toward a door. He slid it in the doorjamb and opened it to the conference room.

"...if you wanna watch RAW alone, I understand."

Show was now crying as he walked toward the door. He turned around.

"Where's Paul?"

"I'll try to find him. He's working with Stephanie right now on SmackDown!. I can't make any promises. I'm sorry."

I slowly walked through the door, my tiny frame actually fitting beneath Show's outstretched arm as he leaned against the doorjamb. I limped to the seat nearest the television screen and sat down. I waited.

"I hate this part..."

"What's that, big guy?"

Show had taken his seat behind me. His massive arms actually curled around me when we were both just seated naturally.

"I hate having to move around. I mean, you get used to a group of people, a group of personalities... and then every once in a while, they need to make sure you don't get too comfortable. I don't blame them for what they're doing... I mean, if you're going to switch someone, this is the best way to do it... but I still wish it hadn't happened."

I hesitated. "Why do you think it's happened?"

"I don't know. I mean, for Paul Wight, it's because he has nothing to do on SmackDown! anymore. For me? I'd like to think it's more than just wrong place, wrong time. Maybe they trust you now."

"How so?"

"Well, I was kept here when Kathleen arrived. I was told to help her get adjusted to her new life. Then you came along, and I felt like I was doing double duty. But you've... you seem to be ready for this. I don't know what it is, but you learned faster than anyone I know except maybe Owen. It's like you were born to help others."

"Aren't we all, Lindsay?"

"Well, yeah... but I mean... you... well, you see, it's funny. Most of us don't really think about dying. We go from alive to... this. I know when that glass came flying at me, I was still recovering from the sound of the explosion. I sure wasn't ready to die."

"No one is... especially at our age."

"Yeah, but... when Owen came aboard, it was the happiest day for all of us. We thought we had lost him, and now he was back with us. But the funny thing was, he didn't really have a shock period. He told me he had three seconds in the air to prepare for dying. He said those three seconds were the scariest of his life, but when he crashed... and he woke up with St. Peter... he said he knew what had happened, and it helped him accept his lot."

"Well, what does that have to do with me, and how I help others?"

"You said yourself you never saw it coming. You didn't feel the bullet enter your brain. And yet... you seem to be willing to accept your lot. Why is that?"

I thought for a moment. The words struggled to enter my mind. Why should I be so used to this? I didn't ever get to see anyone in the WWE in person before I died, and now I'm surrounded by them, and within them, and it means nothing. I know I took acting lessons, but with that, you can turn it on and off. Here, it's always. It's... almost... permanent. It IS permanent. It's the next 50 years!

"I... I guess..." I finally stammered after about a minute, "I guess it's that... well, can I still talk religion here?"

"Sure... I mean, it means nothing, really anymore, but sure."

"See, I was a Catholic, and... we're supposed to help others. That's all I know. So I guess that..." Hang on. What did she say? "...wait, it means nothing? Why?"

"Well, isn't all religion based on faith? And isn't faith having never seen anything and still believing?"

"Yeah..."

"But you've seen it all! You know what the afterlife is because you're in it. Religion is for the living. To us, it's nothing more than a direction to point a lost soul in. We don't need religion. We have the truth staring us in the face."

Man, that's deep. "I never... thought of it that way. But... you're right. Anyway... to answer what you said, I... I don't know why I'm so quick to adjust. I guess I just don't feel dead. I can actively participate. I think, therefore I am, you know? But... I'm not... I'm buried, falling apart... the only evidence of me right now as I am is in this room, and 99% of the world doesn't know I still exist."

"It's crazy, isn't it?"

"I guess so... can we just watch RAW now? I... just don't want to think about it."

"Hey, it was hard for me, too, at first. Don't worry... you'll be fine. But you're right... the show is beginning."

*****

- The SmarK RAW Rant for Aug. 25 / 03

- Live from Tucson, AZ.

- Your hosts are Jim Ross and Jerry Lawler.

- Opening interview: Steve Austin comes out to rile up the crowd. After asking for a case of beer to be delivered to his office, he begins business matters. He mentions that he was upset with the finish to the World Title match. The finish, sure, but what about the rest of it, too? I mean, isn't there enough to go around? At any rate, he declares that he wants a rematch at Unforgiven, and to make sure nothing stupid happens, he'll be the referee. Second order of business: Kane. See, according to Austin, you just don't destroy everyone for malicious reasons. So Austin declares that tonight, Kane will face Goldberg and Booker T in a handicap match. Eric Bischoff interrupts and complains about losing the Inter-Promotional Brawl, so he did something about it. Test has been shipped to SmackDown! for two unnamed wrestlers, and joining him will be the loser of tonight's match between Randy Orton and Rob Van Dam. Evolution comes out to protest, but that brings Goldberg out to counter them and a huge brawl erupts as RVD and Booker charge the ring to even the sides. Austin and Bischoff, of course, take their beer and run. Interesting segment, to say the least.

- La Resistance v. Maven and Hurricane. BUT WAIT! Lance Storm appears at the entrance ramp in a mask and colorful new wardrobe of his own, proclaiming that he knows the Hurricane's secret and will destroy him. Well, if they had to give Lance a personality, might as well be one that can go over the top. Hurricane is notably distracted and attacked from behind. Dupree gets a slam and elbowdrop, then prances. Hurricane airballs a Shining Wizard, allowing Grenier to hit a kneedrop for two. Abdominal stretch, with Dupree's help, wears Hurricane down. Backbreaker gets two. Dupree in with a gutwrench suplex for two. Back suplex gets two. Grenier tries a piledriver, but Hurricane reverses. Dupree cuts off the tag and goes to a figure-four try, but Hurricane kicks him off. Grenier knees him in the back to keep the pressure up, but Hurricane delivers the Overcast out of a superplex attempt. Hot tag Maven, dropkicks abound. Storm re-emerges, allowing Hurricane to give chase. That leaves Maven two-on-one, and La Crepe finishes at 6:45. MUCH better than it had any right to be. **1/2 La Resistance continues the beating on Maven, but Rob Conway emerges to even the sides. He punches Grenier out, then brings the CLAWHOLD~! back to the WWE on Dupree. I guess the Iron Fist just wouldn't cut it.

We heard the door open behind us. Stacy entered... well, Greg entered as Stacy. She was crying. I gave her my seat as she reached for a handkerchief.

"What's wrong?"

"I... I don't know... I mean, after Eric said that Test was switching shows, I... I just started feeling upset."

I looked to Lindsay for an idea. That is odd. I mean, what does it matter to us if someone else jumps around? I sure don't care who wins the next match, for instance.

"Oh, dear. It's okay, Greg. You're just having an identity crisis."

"Wh-what sort?"

"Well, you're emotional right now because Stacy would be emotional. Her boyfriend is moving to another show, and she may not see him for a long time. I don't blame you for being upset. It's happened to me a lot of times."

"What do I do? I can't be like this!"

I began to think. "Maybe he should find Shawn?"

"Yeah, that's good. Or Paul. Either way, they'll know what to do."

She sniffed as she wiped away the last few tears. "All right... thanks."

She got up and left the room. I turned to Lindsay.

"You think we'll see her again this week?"

"We'll see her," he replied. "But we won't see him."

"I don't understand."

"The best thing to do in an identity crisis is get out. He has to find himself again."

"Man, that's two today!"

"I know... but I mean, it's just the luck of the draw. I remember some weeks where all four of us were forced to bail out. The night after Montreal... no one was in a good mood. We were all getting the life force sucked out of us. We had to rely on our intermediary to tell us what happened."

"Wow... but that was an isolated incident, wasn't it?"

"Yeah... but it happens. Just remember... it happens. And don't let anyone else's trouble become yours. If you need to get out, get out. All right?"

"All right." I felt like she was trying to teach me as much as possible before she moved to RAW.

- Randy Orton v. Rob Van Dam. Evolution comes out as a group, allowing RVD to dive onto all of them and begin the fight in the aisle. RVD tosses him around ringside and up to the broadcast position, which is now so far away as to make the whole thing contrived. Triple H adds a low blow from behind, earning himself an ejection but earning RVD a trip through the table. Eventually, the two men make it back to the ring as we take a break. We come back with RVD suplexing Orton and hitting the split-legged moonsault for two. Blind charge misses, and Orton posts RVD and wraps his leg up a few times. Back in, Orton gets a kneebar as Lawler speculates on what might happen if there's no decision in the match. RVD boots out, but Orton dropkicks him low, staggering him for the Play of the Day for two. Back to the leg, but RVD makes the ropes. Clothesline cues comeback #1, but RVD lands awkwardly during the backflip shoulder thrusts. Orton hits a single-leg crab, and RVD tries to wiggle out. He eventually makes the ropes. Orton dropkicks RVD out and baseball slides him for good measure. Back in, it gets two. Comeback #2 starts as RVD hits a leg lariat (good leg) and rotating legdrop for two. He stumbles during the stepover enzuigiri, allowing Orton to turn it into an anklelock. RVD pulls his foot out, but gets hit with the Flatliner for two. Indian deathlock follows, finally being used in context, but RVD punches Orton off of him. Comeback #3 looks succesful, as Rolling Thunder scores for two. To the top, but the Five Star comes up pitifully short as JR speculates the leg damage may have prevented RVD from getting the lift. Orton pounces on the leg, punching under the knee a few times, then slaps on the figure-four, using Flair for leverage until RVD blacks out and is "pinned" at 14:47. I don't like the pinfall finish in a figure-four, but this was still Orton's best match ever easily, and maybe RVD's best legitimate match. I can only imagine what he'll do on SmackDown! now. ***3/4

- Backstage, Orton catches up with Bischoff and asks for an Intercontinental Title shot. Bischoff agrees, but Austin postpones it until Unforgiven, because Booker T is facing Kane next week. That's not good.

- Chris Nowinski, Rodney Mack, and Jazz v. Dudley Boyz and Trish Stratus. Huge brawl to start, as you might expect, with Theodore Long haterizing on the outside, belee dat. Dudleyz run through their litany on Mack, but before the Wazup can be dropped, Nowinski slugs Bubba from behind and the Dudleyz clang heads. Ouch. Mack gets two. Nowinski comes in with a scoop slam for two as Bubba is YOUR face-in-peril. Jazz kicks him low for fun. Team Black hits a double DDT, giving Mack two. Mack hits a right cross for two. Belly-to-belly gets two. Nowinski with a brainbuster for two. MAIN EVENT SPINEBUSTER gets two. Bubba reverses a whip into a flapjack, but Mack cuts the tag off. Double clothesline gets two for Mack. Blackout, but Trish goes low to break. False tag to D-Von, who hits the Saving Grace on Mack before being escorted out. Nowinski with the Cactus DDT equals the score, and Mack rolls on top for two. Nowinski in with a missile dropkick for two. Bubba with a Bubba Bomb out of nowhere, and Trish gets the hot tag. Jazz gets pummeled and hit with the handstand rana for two. Nowinski pulls Trish away, Bubba returns, and it's BONZO GONZO as all six men are in. 3D for Mack, but as D-Von hunts for a table, Nowinski drills Bubba with his facemask for two. If they're going to milk this like the old "arm injuries", I'm all for it. Trish hits Stratusfaction on Nowinski (!) for two. Jazz breaks it up with the Jazz Stinger for two. D-Von returns and goes for a piledriver on Mack, but Nowinski sunset flips over him for the pin at 9:35. Perfectly Acceptable Wrestling. ** The Cast of Rent continue the beatdown on Trish afterwards, but Molly Holly runs in and stands up for women's rights everywhere by beating the daylights out of Long to a MONSTER pop. Wow, that turn worked. Dudleyz recuperate and chase off Team Black, leaving Trish to punk out Jazz and Molly to give Long a Molly Go Round. Trish and Molly embrace, completing the face turn. And a very effective one, at that.

- Scott Steiner piece. He'll be back next week. Oh, joy.

- "World" Title: Triple H v. Goldust. Lockup, and HHH shoves Goldust down. Dust reverses a hiptoss, then lands an elbow on HHH. HHH bails, so Goldust follows him out, but eats stairs. Back in, HHH USES THE KNEE for two. MAIN EVENT SPINEBUSTER gets two. Goldust sees a back body drop coming and hits a sliding punch on HHH, then goes low. Sunset flip gets two, reversed for two. Lariat by Goldust, but HHH dodges a legdrop and punches Goldust down. Outside now, as Goldust hits the post, but backdrops HHH into the crowd. Back in, Goldust tries Shattered Dreams, but it's blocked by the ref. HHH goes outside and groins Dust on the post. Back in, he gets two. MAIN EVENT SLEEPER is reversed by Dust, but HHH breaks with a jawbreaker. Dust gets slugged out, but ducks a haymaker and hits a bulldog. Ref is bumped when Dust shoves HHH off during a Pedigree attempt, and HHH goes outside for the sledgehammer. Goldust hits a neckbreaker to prevent the sledge shot, then grabs the hammer and brings it down on HHH. Curtain Call follows... for the pin??? NO ONE in the arena believes it, and sure enough, here comes a second referee to DQ Dust for the sledge shot at 8:17. You know, with Dustin Rhodes, Ric Flair's protege, and the Big Gold Belt involved, why NOT have a Dusty Finish to send me up the wall? Very good brawl otherwise. ***1/4 HHH beats Goldust down as they head to the back. Good, Dust isn't the answer in the main event scene anyway.

- We go "live" to a hospital in Grand Rapids, MI, where The Rock is laid up in a bed (still with his shades on, of course). He proceeds to cut a very un-Rock-like promo on Kane, ending with the ominous words, "You have my attention." It'll be interesting to see if Rock learns his lesson about Kane from last week when he returns.

- Main event: Booker T and Goldberg v. Kane. Double-teaming to start, but Kane shrugs them both off. Goldberg is sent to the corner, leaving Booker alone. Kane slaughters him with clubbing fists and his CLOTHESLINES OF DOOM, but Booker keeps kicking out. Choke slam gets two as Goldberg is getting antsy. Booker reverses a Tombstone attempt into a sort-of Victory Roll for two. Missile dropkick and Spinaroonie, but Kane just choke slams him again for two. Tombstone, but Kane picks him up at two to continue the punishment. And of course, this backfires, as Booker hits an enzuigiri, hot tag Goldberg. Slam! Slam! Slam! Kane sits up and chokes Goldberg down in the corner, and as the ref tries to admonish Kane, Triple H returns. He shoves the ref out of the way and swings a chair at Goldberg, but Goldberg ducks and Kane gets it. HHH is sent to the outside, spear, jackhammer, good night at 5:44. *3/4 Kane sits up soon afterward, and EVERYONE runs for the hills as the show ends.

The Bottom Line:

Wrestling? On RAW? Could it be? An astoundingly strong effort from everyone involved, as someone must have told them spots at Unforgiven were on the line. Orton and RVD steal the show, and Van Dam's presence on SmackDown! can only help everyone over there.

Until next time, BUY THE BOOK!

*****

Shawn walked into the room as RAW ended. His eyes were red, and it looked like he had been crying some.

"Okay, guys. Ready to drive ahead to El Paso?"

"Aren't we flying? It's a long ride."

"I know... but we can get some sleep on the way over. Paul and I will handle it."

Lindsay noticed what I did. "Are you ok, man?"

"Yeah... I just was helping Stacy recover. It's nothing..."

"Where's Greg?"

"He bailed. He's gonna be with you guys starting next week... well, with SmackDown! anyway. Come on, we gotta get going."

He walked out of the room as we got up to follow him. I started towards the door when I felt a giant hand on my shoulder. I turned around. Big Show had put his glasses on.

"Hey, Andy," she said, "Let me know how things go while I'm on RAW, ok?"

I smiled.

"I'll make sure to write whenever I can. And you tell me how everyone's doing on RAW, too, you got that?"

"Sure. I'll enjoy reading your words."

"And I yours."

I began to feel a little awkward. We sounded like she was moving across the country, or like I'd never see her again. I knew I would -- at the very least, we would meet again at Survivor Series. So why was I taking this so personally?

"I'll miss you, Lindsay."

"I'll miss you too."

We hugged. It was all we could think of doing before returning to the real world and preparing to go our separate ways.

[The Third Dukes]

When your main character is wrestling in a match where he's not only a bad wrestler, but a wrestler who can do only so much, it becomes almost impossible to steal the show. Thankfully, I already had an escape plan in place.

Having acquired Hulk Hogan in EWR, I was ready to make him make his (re-)debut here. The whole match, really, is a contrivance for Hogan's return. Also, I liked the idea of being able to pose with him.

This chapter is a legitimate placeholder story-wise, but show-wise is still somewhat important in that it's Eddie Guerrero's return home, it's Hulk Hogan's on-screen return, and the finish to the match is one that, if the WWE dared pull it off, would have been Mark Out City. Or at least, that's what one reader told me. Maybe this is another "moment", only on-screen. But I doubt it.

*****

Chapter 14

Running Wild

Tuesday, August 26, 2003, 05:37 PM

El Paso, TX

There was still a twenty-minute period before SmackDown! started. I took advantage of the time to observe everyone’s behavior. The RAW guys returned the favor from the previous night and accompanied us to this Texas border town for SmackDown!. A big deal was made about how the WWE/F hadn’t been in town since 1989, and as if that weren’t enough, there would be two homecomings -- one in the WWE, and one in El Paso.

I "paced" up and down the hall, waiting for the fireworks to sound and the matches to begin. In the distant background, I heard a couple of random guys go at it for Velocity. I looked over to the curtain and saw Paul Heyman directing traffic on the headset, while Michael Cole and Tazz went over last-minute notes. Everywhere there was a feeling of specialness about tonight.

I limped my way to the door outside the locker room when I saw a figure out of the corner of my eye. I turned to the right, looking down a long hallway. A large man walked toward me. He cut an imposing figure, even in his obviously advanced years, against the background. There was no mistaking his shape and gait; even if you could overlook that, his vibrant costume and smiling swagger were dead giveaways. I smiled, out of habit.

For 24 years -- longer than I was alive -- this man dedicated his life to the craft. Ever since I was 7 years old, watching on closed-circuit television as he stood in Detroit, Michigan in front of thousands and thousands, I wanted to see him up close and personally. I cheered him to victory in Atlantic City, and cried at his loss in Toronto. He infuriated me at Daytona Beach, jaded me at Atlanta on live TV -- and yet when I saw him again in Milwaukee, and again in Toronto, I welcomed him back. And now... now, after so long -- too long -- here he is.

"Hogan... welcome back."

"Good to see you again, little dude."

I grabbed his bags and prepared to bring them in for him.

"Hey, thanks, brother, but this is one man who’s learned to carry his own weight."

He insisted. I simply moved into the locker room, as fast as my leg could carry me. In the locker room, the RAW and SmackDown! guys were carrying on, with an uneasy tone to their activities, as if they were waiting for something big. As I entered, they hushed a little.

"Is he here, Zach?"

"Yeah."

Everyone went quiet. I took my place by the wall. We waited. After several seconds, he entered. Big Show started to clap. Goldberg followed. I chimed in. Kane gave his applause. Soon the entire locker room -- both shows -- was applauding his arrival. Undertaker walked up to him and stared him down. "Hogan," he said, "try to stick around this time, ok?"

We all laughed. It was like an old friend had moved back in from out of town.

*****

06:25 PM

"No Chance in Hell" had played over the PA system as Vince McMahon walked out, a little angrier for the events of Sunday. I heard Tazz on commentary talk about how Michael Cole might be in trouble as I waited for my cue in the back. Vince grabbed the microphone.

"Now, I understand that some people are a little excited about the results of SummerSlam. After all, we had a good World Title match, where that whiny Kurt Angle lost the title. We had an amazing tag team match, where four guys gave it their all in the ring... yeah, go ahead, applaud them..."

I heard the boys in the back applauding as well.

"But something else happened at SummerSlam. Something that I personally am very upset about. You see, I had Zach Gowan beat. I had him on the way out of the WWE once and for all. I could’ve destroyed that little freakshow! But no. What happens? Kurt Angle sticks his nose where it doesn’t belong! And as if that weren’t enough, it appears there’s one person here who has forgotten why he was brought into the WWE in the first place.... Michael, get in this ring."

Cole slowly climbed the ropes and entered.

"Let me ask you, Michael Cole... what in the hell did you think you were doing? You were brought in to handle the television show. You were NOT hired to be a referee! You went behind my back! You cost me the match, dammit! Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t put you out on the street right this minute!"

"Well, Mr. McMahon... I received my referee’s license, and there was a match... and Zach Gowen had you pinned. It was my duty to count the pin. I don’t care what threat you make to Tim White or to anyone else. When I became an official referee for SmackDown!, and for SummerSlam, I was required to perform my job."

"Your... JOB? Your... JOB??? Your job is to sit at that desk right there and call the match, not to change its outcome! You made a mistake you are really going to regret. Michael Cole, I’ve heard people talk about you. They don’t think you’re any good. They talk about Josh Matthews being better than you are. And you know, up until Sunday I stood up for you. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. But I should’ve listened to the people. I should’ve canned your ass years ago when you made everyone wish J.R. could work through a stroke! Your announcing makes me sick, Cole! YOU make me sick!"

"Now hang on, Mr. McMahon... I want you to shut up RIGHT NOW! If you’re thinking of going on a power trip and removing me from that seat right there because I performed my duty as an official, I will go to the courts and hire the best attorneys the federal government has to offer me. You don’t think they still want to take you to the cleaners? Keep it up, Vince, and you might answer to me."

"Is that a threat? Are you threatening Vince McMahon?"

"I’m threatening the son <bleep> standing right in front of me!"

The crowd cheered. I can’t believe this. MICHAEL COLE is getting a face pop. Vince sneered. He grabbed Cole by the lapel of his suit and looked right into his face.

"YOU WILL RESPECT ME, DAMMIT! I AM YOUR BOSS! I WRITE YOUR PAYCHECKS! I CAN BREAK YOU RIGHT NOW, DAMMIT! I--"

All Grown Up started up. I looked to Stephanie, who nodded back. Together we headed out to the aisleway. We stopped halfway down the aisle. Stephanie had a mic.

"Dad, I’m ashamed of you. Why are you beating up on someone like Michael Cole? He did what I signed him to do. Furthermore, don’t even think of hurting him or his career. He is MY employee before he is YOURS. So Dad, let him get back to doing his announcing. Right now, I have something to tell you."

Vince reluctantly set Cole down. Cole dusted himself off and returned to the announcing table, never taking his eyes off of Vince as he did so. Stephanie continued.

"Now Dad, I can’t believe you would be such a sore loser. I mean, you set up the match to try to eliminate this kid who was living his dream! Well, Vince, you got a surprise, didn’t you? You couldn’t stack the deck enough. I guess sometimes guts and heart are all you need."

"Stephanie, do you have a point? Actually, I know you don’t. You’re incapable of formulating one! So let me do it for you. First things first: Sunday was a fluke. Secondly: I eliminated Hogan before, and I’ll get rid of him again. He was nothing in his last stay. I put all my efforts into eliminating him, rather than letting him rot on his own. This time, it’s quite simple: I’ll cut it off before it even starts! Hogan, if you’re listening, I have ordered security to make sure you never set foot in a WWE arena. You may be under contract, but you will not be stinking up my ring."

My turn.

"Actually, Vince, that’s where you’re wrong. You see, Hulk Hogan is a WWE wrestler and has every right to be here. In fact, I can guarantee for a fact that he is in the building right now!"

The crowd exploded in cheers. Vince looked at me, ready to stare a hole into my body. I felt a chill running down my spine. He’s good... either that, or something else...

"Well, Zach Gowen, if that’s true, then he’ll be here to watch you be dismantled. I’m putting you in an I Quit match tonight! And I’m putting you against a man I KNOW takes pleasure in destroying others. You will be facing Chris Benoit tonight! I expect him to..."

"Dad... Dad, I hate to burst your bubble, but that match will not happen tonight. You see, Chris Benoit, as of today, is off the SmackDown! roster, and officially a part of RAW. So is the Big Show -- I wanted to get your favorite weapon away from you as soon as possible. Now, I want to apologize to all of you for trading away Benoit, but I had to include him to make the trade fair. But now, Vince, I hope you have a backup plan. I hope you hired a little insurance."

Vince’s wide-eyed expression turned into an evil grin. "I sure did."

I felt someone knock me down from behind. I fell forward and rolled onto my back. I looked up. The FBI was standing over me, putting the boots to me and to Stephanie. Nunzio grabbed my prosthesis and yanked it off, hitting me about the shoulders with it. He then turned me over into an STF-like hold. I tapped and screamed as Vince laughed in the ring. Nunzio got off of me and waved off his associates. Vince growled into the microphone.

"That, Zach Gowen, is your challenge -- an I Quit Handicap match! I don’t expect you to last 5 minutes. Enjoy the Rio Grande -- you’ll be wearing a cement shoe at the bottom of it!"

No Chance in Hell started up again as the FBI and Vince walked off. I slowly rolled onto my back and pulled myself up. I found my prosthesis and re-attached it. I pulled Stephanie up off the floor and helped her to her feet. We hobbled off to the back, hurt but angry.

*****

07:39 PM

My music hit as I limped my way out from the back. I rolled into the ring and stared at the entranceway. Tony Chimel introduced me, but it would be an entire commercial break before I would meet my opponents. It gave me 3-5 minutes to ponder the beating I was about to take.

Now, if I am to make this match believable, I have to think of some submission. Unfortunately, a lot of the ones Zach can do -- armbar, headlock, sleeper, etc. -- are, well, boring. I need one that’ll get the crowd to realize it could end the match. But I’m alone against three guys... well, to start. I wonder what Guido’s got in mind. I just hope I don’t make him look like a total putz at the finish.

The FBI’s Italian music started up as all three men walked to the ring, yelling at the crowd. They didn’t get much of a reception -- it seemed that the audience was a little surprised that this match was the main event after all. However, their apathy turned to unanimous booing when Vince McMahon emerged behind them, smiling. He produced a roll of 20s, which Nunzio took and put in his jacket pocket. He then pointed at me. Chuck and Stamboli rushed the ring.

I tried to fight them both off, balancing on my prosthesis which I hadn’t even had the time to remove. But the numbers were too much -- Stamboli kicked my good leg out, and I tipped over to the mat. Chuck grabbed my prosthesis and tossed it to ringside, where Vince began to taunt me with it. I reached the ropes, knowing that in an I Quit match, they were my sanctuary. With my leg, I kicked away at Stamboli, only to be booted by Chuck. Nunzio entered the ring and got in my face, slapping me around.

I grabbed his wrist and rolled him over for an armbar. Stamboli yanked me off of him and pounded away at me. I was tossed straight into a superkick from Chuck. I staggered backward, barely able to gain any push with my foot. Well, at least I’d have had trouble standing anyway.

Chuck and Stamboli picked Nunzio up and launched him into me. His head hit my leg, causing me to flail around in pain. Chuck picked me up for a torture rack, but I anticipated it and armdragged out of it, much like I’d seen Rey do against Kurt Angle. I got to my foot and charged Stamboli, dropkicking him out of the ring. Chuck charged, but I ducked and Nunzio took a clothesline, flying out of the ring. I hopped up behind Chuck and hit him with a body attack, sending him out as well. With all three men on the outside, I got to the apron and moonsaulted onto the pile.

Having taken a temporary advantage, I tried to drag Nunzio back into the ring. I got him in and began to climb the apron when Chuck grabbed me and tossed me overhead. I flew through the air, landing on the announcer’s table and in Michael Cole’s lap. Vince came over and tossed me back to the FBI. As they pounced on me, I saw Vince slap Cole, causing him to lose his headset and stare at the owner.

I was sent back in the ring, where Nunzio tried a springboard into an armbar. I screamed in pain as Chuck and Stamboli added their shots to all over my body. The crowd began to get upset as Cole was being knocked down by Vince, who had climbed in and gotten in my face. I heard the chants of "Hogan! Hogan!" echoing throughout the arena. Come on, Hulk, don’t let me or the fans down... please...

As the crowd got at their rowdiest, I heard "Voodoo Child" hit the PA system. Nunzio released the hold and looked to the entranceway. The other men followed suit. I lay motionless for a while as the cameras zoomed in on Vince’s face. He laughed -- there was no sign of Hogan anywhere. Meanwhile, I saw him emerge from the crowd and climb in, standing in front of me and behind the FBI. They turned around and stopped in fear.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Hogan started landing right hands on anything that moved as I could feel the ring vibrate from the ovation. Vince bailed out and backed up the entranceway. I saw Palumbo and Stamboli get sent out of the ring. I knew this was all legal -- no DQ in an I Quit match, right? -- but still, I wondered if Hogan was stealing my thunder. Wait... Hogan has enough of his own thunder. He doesn’t need mine.

Wait a second... I just thought of how I’ll win the match!

Nunzio stammered back, then produced something from his pocket. It was a set of brass knuckles, which found the mark on Hogan’s head. But this only temporarily stopped the Hulk Express, as he immediately Hulked up and did his routine on Nunzio, ending with the Big Leg Drop. He left the ring and kept Chuck and Stamboli at bay. I slowly got up. It was my turn.

I hopped over to Nunzio and turned him onto his stomach. I made my way to his legs and stood with my foot between them. I picked his legs up and crossed them in front of me. I then leaned back as much as I could without losing my balance. Nunzio screamed. The crowd screamed. I had, on one leg, re-invented the Sharpshooter. Soon, Nunzio tapped out.

I collapsed backwards on top of his body. Hogan re-entered the ring with my prosthesis. He handed it to me and helped me strap it back on. We stood in the ring, smiling and high-fiving. The FBI retreated, while Vince shot his "I’ll get you next time" look. As SmackDown! went off the air, Hogan and I held our hands up high.

The cameras stopped rolling, and Vince and the FBI were in the back. I started to follow them when I heard Hogan’s voice on the mic. "Just a minute, Zach. I want you back in here to share this moment with all my Hulkamaniacs, dude."

I rolled back into the ring. As I did, Real American played. Hogan looked at me. "You know what to do, right, brother?"

"Oh yeah, I do. Let’s run wild on El Paso!"

With that, we posed for ten straight minutes as the crowd ate it all up with a spoon.

*****

10:45 PM

We were packing up our things as Paul worked on post-production. I was all ready to go when Eddie Guerrero came up to me.

"Hey, chico man, that was muy awesome what you did out there, man!"

"Thanks... you really think so?"

"Oh yeah, brother, I was marking out with the crowd, man. Say... I wanna do somethin’ for ya. Chavito and I are gonna hit the town over the next couple days. We’re inviting a bunch of people to stick around. Wanna come along?"

"I... I’d love to... but I’d better check with Paul first."

"Who, Heyman? Man, he’s already staying!"

"In that case... let’s go, Eddie!"

"All right! This is gonna be a fiesta, Guerrero style, baby!"

Eddie walked off and into the Undertaker. I held my breath.

"Hey... Mark, I, uh... I just wanted to tell you somethin’, man."

"Yeah? What’s that?"

"I’m sorry I doubted you, buddy. You’ve been so professional to me so far."

"Yeah... you know, Eddie... SummerSlam was my litmus test. I wanted to see if you were a threat. And I realized... well, you’re not after my spot. Your spot’s on top -- Brock is the guy who should be worried. With folks like you around, the WWE’s in good hands."

"Hey, man, that’s great and all, but... you know, it’s not our decision."

"Eddie, I saw the look in Vince’s eye. I think he sees the dollars in you. Kid, you can move mountains. You proved it tonight. You had the crowd in the palm of your hand. Now, I heard you all were having a little party?"

"Well, yeah..."

"Is there room for a Dead Man?"

"I thought you wouldn’t... sure, amigo. And thank you so much."

"No, man... thank YOU."

They shook hands and left their separate ways. I grabbed my bag and hobbled off to Paul, suddenly confident I had done the right thing.

[The Third Dukes]

Without a pin anymore (my 15 minutes of pinning having come and gone around SummerSlam), and coming to the end of a tumultuous week, I wanted to think of a way to wrap things up. Here's what I got.

One little throwaway gag that was so subtly placed not even I noticed it: Bradshaw cleaning house in the Monopoly game. Given JBL's current character, though, the joke seems obvious -- but back then, pre-CNBC stint, it was merely a coincidence.

First, you'll notice the debut of the dreaded gray text here. This story took full advantage of the EWB palette for words, and this was the best example. The gray, in my opinion, grabbed your attention and let you know that something you may or may not want to know about was here. In this case, an event occurred that changed the course of my diary. Not an in-game injury, mind you -- just a way to put Andy back in Recovery.

On top of that, I added in this -- the final two chapters of Part I -- one of those difficult "crash boom bang" endings people talk about. In fact, it became my mission to include something somewhat important at the end of all VIII parts. Sure, they varied in terms of emotional impact and/or storyline impact, but all of them meant something, which is always a good thing in my book.

The new person? Well, let's just say it was -- for me -- a way to emphasize I could be anyone at any time. However, the course of EWR's nature forced me to keep things as wrestling-oriented as possible. The story flowed better that way, in my opinion.

*****

Chapter 15

Origin: Kathleen

Thursday, August 28, 2003, 07:35 PM

El Paso, TX

The last 48 hours had been a bit of a blur to me. I know I’m supposed to be a wrestler and act cool and all that. I know I’m visiting Eddie and Chavo right now, and I should focus on them. I know I’m currently trying to play a Monopoly game with Undertaker and APA. So why is it that all I can think about is the high I got from POSING IN THE RING WITH HULK HOGAN! Woohoo!

As Eddie and Paul were discussing the upcoming weeks of SmackDown!, I rolled the dice. I desperately need a double six here to get to GO. I’ve got no money, and I don’t know if my property can save me. Nine. I moved around the corner, zoomed past the Taker’s green section, over the Short Line, and... straight onto Park Place. With a hotel. Damn. It can’t.

"Sorry, John," I shrugged at Bradshaw. "I’m out."

"Awww yeah! Gimme your stuff, man!"

I cashed in the houses and hotels and mortgaged everything to be sure. Sure enough, I was $25 short. Well, fourth out of six isn’t horrible. I forfeited all the deeds to Bradshaw and watched. He paid for them to return face-up, but decided against housing at the time. It was Taker’s turn.

"Hey, Uncle Eddie, what do you want to do tonight?"

It was Chavo. He bounded down the stairs, taking great care with his arm as he headed to the main room. He nearly stepped on the board as he rounded the corner.

"I was thinking, man, let’s go across the border for a big meal. I know a place that’s been begging us to stop in. Remember El Toro Loco?"

"Oh yeah! I’ve heard good stuff about that! So when should we leave?"

"Let’s wait for an hour or so. I don’t want us to be in Mehico while SmackDown! is on, you know?"

Huh? "Eddie... what’s the big deal? I mean, everyone knows it’s a taped show... right?"

"It’s all about appearance, man. There’s marks down there, and they’s dangerous some of them. I mean, Juarez has a gang problem. Trust me, man. Appearance is everything down there. And everyone: be careful; you might be spected to prove yourself down there."

"Um..." Paul seemed very nervous. "If that’s the case, I’d better stay here. I have some calls to make anyway, you know, to Vince about next week. Is that all right?"

"Hey, mi casa es su casa, you know that, homes. Just make sure to pay for your own delivery."

"Ha ha. All right, thanks."

"Rest of you guys in?"

I nervously looked at Paul. He seemed not to give any signal of advice.

"Sure, I’ll do it."

Everyone else at the game liked it too.

"All right... we’ll leave around 9 PM. Should give you enough time to finish the game."

"Dammit!"

"What’s wrong, Ron?"

"Oh, it’s not you. I just landed in jail, man. Damn."

We all chuckled as Taker took the dice.

*****

09:17 PM

Ciudad Juarez, Mexico

"Tigre Negro! Tigre Negro!"

The crowd chanted and cheered as we entered. They yelled Tigre Negro -- Black Tiger -- which, as Chavo explained, was Eddie’s moniker before he lost his mask in Japan. As Eddie and Undertaker moved among the crowd members, signing autographs and shaking hands, the maitre d’ of El Toro Loco welcomed us and spoke with Chavo, directing us to a back room.

We all headed in and took our seats. Chavo remained close to the door, speaking to the maitre d’ in Spanish. He seemed to be reassuring the guy about something. A motion of a camera was made. Eventually, both he and the maitre d’ thanked each other -- that much I gathered -- before Chavo joined us at the table.

"Hey guys," said Chavo, "the guy was just telling me that if we all pose for some autographed photos with him after the meal, it’ll be payment enough."

"Really?" I said, stunned. "I’m not that big a celebrity, am I?"

"You’re a wrestler, man. Mexico loves wrestlers. And they love me and Uncle Eddie. That’s what’s important."

There was a huge racket breaking out outside. I heard Eddie’s voice, yelling in Spanish at someone. I heard Taker responding. We all got up out of our seats and opened the door. As we did, we saw Eddie and Taker being restrained from each other as the patrons cheered and chanted. Eddie broke free of his restraints and dove at Taker. The two began to exchange punches as we rushed to stop it.

Chavo and I pulled Eddie off of Taker and took him aside. "Eddie, man, what are you doing? Are you nuts?"

"Zach, hombre, it’s okay. It’s a show. Just hold me back."

So we went along with the pantomime, with the APA trying to calm Taker down. Eventually, Eddie "punched" me in the face, causing me to lose my grip. He broke free of Chavo -- who, with only one arm, wasn’t much defense -- and the fight was on again. The two chased, punched, and scratched each other to the back room. The rest of us followed, with Chavo closing the door behind him as he entered.

We heard a cheer outside. They couldn’t see us through any windows. Eddie and Taker put their fists down and laughed. They embraced.

"Man," Taker said. "I haven’t had this much fun in ages."

"Wait," Ron interrupted, angrily. "That was all a work?"

"Yeah... you couldn’t see the inches of air between me and his punches, man?"

"Not from where I was."

We all laughed and took our seats. Ron kicked his chair before sitting down. You could tell he didn’t like being the butt of the work.

"Damn."

*****

11:03 PM

We had finished posing with the owner of the restaurant, first each in an individual picture, then all together for a group shot. We each signed the photo in the white spot underneath before he proudly hung the photos up on his wall. Eddie’s and Chavo’s were on top, of course, with Taker’s, my, and the group’s photo in the second row, and the APA’s underneath. It was a beautiful circle of fame.

We headed to the parking lot to return to El Paso. As we got close, we all stopped dead in our tracks and stared ahead. We had gone in two cars. Eddie had brought his Cadillac convertible, while Chavo had a Chevrolet. They were still there -- but only as shells. Where bright wheels once marked their future passage, there lay only cinderblocks.

The cars had been stripped for parts.

"Dammit! How did this happen, man?" Chavo was incensed. He went over to his car’s shell and looked under the hood. There was no engine. The car had no bumpers or license plates either. Inside, the seats and steering wheel were missing, as was the radio. But the worst was what was written on the doors -- SALGA TRAIDORES (go home, traitors) and ARRIBA LOS LEONES (Upward the Lions). Chavo shoved the car off its cinderblocks before grabbing his arm.

"Dammit, I hope it’s not hurt again." He shook it a few times. "No problem... Shit! Who did this?"

"Los Leones, Chavito." Eddie had seen the same writing I had. "I should’ve known they might be in town."

"Who are they?" Taker seemed a little uneasy.

"Los Leones is this group of Mascaras fans. They’re mostly in Tampico, but I guess they have branches here. Mi padre won his retirement match over Mil, and in CMLL my brother -- Chavo’s father -- gave him the beating that sent him to AAA and the US. They don’t like our familia. And it looks like they’re here, and they’re dangerous. Dammit."

"You got a cell, Eddie?"

"Yeah -- lemme call Paul for a ride." He dialed up his house on the phone and waited. He must have been waiting through his answering machine. "Hey, Paul, it’s Eddie. Pick up please. We’re in Juarez, outside El Toro Loco, and -- oh, hi, Paul. Yeah, our cars got scrapped while we were eating. I dunno who did it, man. We just need your van for the ride home. You got it? Great. See you in 15 minutes, then? All right. Muchas gracias, Paul. Adios."

He hung up. "He’ll be here soon. Man, who did this?"

Suddenly, I felt a sharp shot right between the shoulder blades. I fell face-first onto the gravel pit that served as the parking lot. There was shouting all around as everyone else turned around. I heard a series of blows, skin pounding skin. In turn, I felt a boot strike me in the small of the back repeatedly.

I had to act on instinct. I grabbed a handful of the gravel and forcibly turned myself over. A large man with stubble stood over me. He had a black leather jacket on him. I looked behind him and saw other people fighting with us, wearing the same jacket. One had his back to me. It read LOS LEONES.

The man standing over me had the muffler from one of our cars in his hand. He raised it over his head, preparing to bring it to mine. I tossed the gravel at his face, causing him to flinch temporarily. With my good leg, I kicked him in the groin, causing him to double over. I scooted backwards and pulled myself up. I ran back to the restaurant, making sure to clip a Leon from behind as I did so.

"AVISO! AVISO!" I yelled, trying to remember something in Spanish. "LOS LEONES!" I made shadowboxing motions, hoping someone would get the message. About five people did, and they charged out of their seats. I had to jump to get out of the way.

I raced back. The brawl had escalated, with people joining either side. Ron tossed one man onto the shell of Eddie’s car. Taker picked another man up by the throat and held him over his head. Two Leones charged Bradshaw, leaving him fighting off a triple team. In the midst of the chaos, I felt a huge impact on the side of my head, knocking me over. I looked up.

The man with the muffler had found me again. He began swinging at my head and chest. I thought I felt a rib crack. My nose was definitely broken, as the blood flowed from it and my lip. I tried to turn my head to shield the blows, but he just switched to hitting my sternum. Finally, two Guerrero sympathizers grabbed him and wrestled him to the ground.

I had trouble breathing. I stood up very slowly. As I did so, I felt someone shove me to the ground from behind. I fell down and felt my prosthesis pulled off of me. I flopped over with more gravel, but this time I couldn’t get it off, as the man kicked my wrist before I could throw.

"I bet you feel big now," I muttered as the man swung with my leg. I saw the shoe coming straight between my eyes.

*****

Friday, August 29, 2003, 01:15 PM

Hospital Municipal de la Ciudad de Juarez

"Zach? Are you all right?"

My eyes couldn’t open all the way. I only saw a light shining right into them. I felt a swelling all over my face. It felt like a tube was in my left arm. My chest felt heavy, and a beeping sound was off to my right, regularly going off with my heartbeat.

"Who’s... who’s there?"

"It’s me, Paul. We’re alone now. I’m visiting you."

"Where am I right now?"

"You’re in a hospital. You had a rough night last night."

"Yeah... I... remember..." I couldn’t do more than a squint as I regained my focus. "How long... did they... hurt me?"

"I don’t know. I think it was about 20 minutes, but they were still at it when I arrived. I tried to help you, but I’m not a physical guy. You should be thanking Bradshaw. He punked out three or four guys by himself. The cops came, and everything was explained. None of us are in jail."

"Oh... okay..." I felt very tired, despite not being awake for the past 14 or so hours. "How are my eyes?"

"They look a little red, but nothing major. You had a broken nose, about four bruised ribs, and a minor concussion. I’m sorry, Zach. I don’t know how this happened."

"These guys... Los Leones... they attacked us from behind. There must’ve been about ten of them. The guys at the restaurant were a help. I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise..."

I began to open my eyes a little more. I saw a plain white ceiling above me. Well, I am in a hospital. I turned to face Paul, speaking as I did so.

"I’m sorry, Paul... I..."

I stopped as I faced him. Something was wrong with my vision. Paul’s suit was its usual tones of gray, but so was his face! The monitor was giving off a bright gray pulse instead of a green one. Everything was bland, graying, colorless. What the hell’s going on?

"Paul... what’s happening?"

"What is it? Andy, is it you?"

"Yeah... I think it is... I can’t... I mean..."

"Say it, Andy. What’s wrong?"

"I’m colorblind right now."

Paul began to dig through his bag. He produced a phone and the Recovery container.

"It’s all right. That beating must have been really bad. Don’t worry about it, Andy. It may have been better it happened while you were here."

"Why?"

"Because now Zach’s soul won’t be traumatized. You took his bullet."

That doesn’t make me feel much better.

"How deeply can you breathe?"

"I don’t know."

"Look, take as long as you need. I’ll hold it to your mouth. You need this... you and a lot of other people."

"What do you mean?"

"Molly needs it; I wouldn’t be surprised if Chavo did now..."

"Can’t you give it to them?"

"No! Their souls can’t be separated from them. Now," he said, bringing the container to my face, "let’s go."

*****

Friday, August 29, 2003, time unknown

Recovery

"Shh... he’s coming to. Quick, hide."

"Okay."

I heard two voices as my eyes opened. They were a male and a female voice, but I couldn’t place them. I was still a little disoriented, having basically lost a day of my life to a group of thugs south of the border. I looked around. No one.

At the very least, the place was green again. Whatever had taken me, it was gone. I was still very tired, and if ever there was a time to be left alone, this was it. However, I wasn’t alone. There were two others with me. Who could they be? "Hello? Who’s there?"

No response. Whoever they are, they must think I need to be alone for a while. It’s certainly not Lindsay -- she was there to help me from the beginning.

"I heard two voices... whoever you are, show yourself."

Wow, I’m in a bad mood. What’s wrong with me? Am I still hurt?

"This isn’t funny. As soon as I can get up, I’m coming after you."

I heard the same two voices whisper.

"What’s gotten into him?"

"He looks funny."

"I heard that! Now come forward!"

Finally, a man approached me. He was dressed in military combat fatigues, wearing a bright green helmet. He had a bright silver canteen in his right hand. I knew the face, but not the body -- especially his chest, where a gaping hole stood out.

"Greg? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it is. What brings you in here, Andy?"

"I... Zach got mugged. I couldn’t see color. I’m surprised I can now."

"Oh, trauma, eh? Man, that stinks. Well, lemme help you up if you want."

I was barely able to lift my arm for him to grab. He pulled with all his might, getting me to the vertical base. Of course, as soon as he let go, I toppled over again, as my legs weren’t nearly strong enough yet to hold my "weight".

"Sorry, Andy. I guess I tried too soon."

"Don’t worry about it. But... what are you doing in this one? Shouldn’t you be in your own -- Shawn’s?"

"Well, normally yeah. But I’m being sent to SmackDown! now. Apparently I’m Lindsay’s replacement over here."

"Replacement? Good luck. I don’t know if she can be replaced."

"Easy, now. Don’t say anything you’ll regret. You’re just lucky I understand."

"Understand? What are you talking about?"

"Well, if she’d been the one out here..."

"She? Lindsay’s better than that! She’s better than you!"

"No, not her... the other one... you know there’s three of us here."

I paused. Of course there’s three of us. I can’t believe that, for a second, I forgot. And why am I being so defensive of Lindsay? She doesn’t need my defense. Does she?

"Who... Kathleen? Is she...?"

"I’m over here, Andy! How are ya?"

"Kathleen, get over here so I can see you!"

"Nope. Sorry. You gotta get to me!" She giggled.

"Dammit, Kath, I don’t have the strength to do that and you know it! I should..."

"Andy, mellow out!" Greg’s harsh tone snapped my focus back to him. "Dude, you’re not really in a condition to talk right now. You should know that."

"What do you mean? I can speak just fine!" Using my last bit of strength, I pulled myself up to my feet. "Are you saying there’s something wrong with me right now?"

"Andy... there is. Look for yourself."

He held up his canteen. I stared into it, not sure what to make of the picture staring back at me. It was me, all right, but it wasn’t. I could see Greg in color, and the room in color, but not myself in color. I was still a black-and-white view.

"Wh... wh... what is this?"

"Andy, you aren’t fully recovered yet. It happened to me after... well, after this," he said as he pointed to the hole. "You still have some lingering effects. I don’t know how long it’s going to take, but the fact is, you’re still poisoned a little. You feel a type of justifiable anger. Right now, you have to get it out of your system."

I sat back down. Angry? I’m not allowed to be angry! If I’m mad, why am I as full-figured as ever... even if I am in black and white?

"Andy," Greg said as he sat down next to me, "you have to relax a little. I’m sorry this has happened. I wish I could take it out of you right now. But these things take time. Just rest some more. See if you’re better tomorrow. It’s ok."

I began to feel regret in my system. I felt choked up by the error of my ways, in particular because I was afraid I was ruining myself. I’m going to blink out in Recovery. This is embarrassing.

"Greg... I..."

"Yeah?"

"I’m sorry. I’m really sorry." A tear began to roll down my face. I touched it. How did this get here? I don’t have a body to produce tears!

"It’s all right. It happened to me. Look, just calm down. Just take it easy. And we’ll try again tomorrow, ok?"

I lay back. I felt my eyelids getting heavy as the tear rolled across my hand and to the floor. The last thing I remember seeing was a streak of flesh coloring where the trail of the tear was.

*****

Saturday, August 30, 2003

I was up before Greg was, and perhaps before Kathleen, although I hadn’t been able to see her. I took time to check my surroundings. This place is a lot bigger than I remember it last time. But there’s still pretty much nothing here. This is weird.

I walked over to Greg, who was laid out flat. Wait... I got up pretty fast, didn’t I? Maybe I’m 100%... or it’s just that first time... I looked at his canteen, trying to see my reflection. When I did, I breathed a sigh of relief. I’m back.

"Andy! You’re all right!"

"Kathleen? Is that you?"

"Yeah."

"Where are you?"

"Don’t look for me, please!"

"Kathleen, I’m going to have to see you eventually. This room is only so big, you know."

"No!"

"Are you black and white too, Kath? Is that it?"

"Uh-uh."

"Then what is it?"

"I look awful."

Oh good grief... I thought vanity stopped after death...

"Kathleen, you can’t look that bad. I’ve got a hole in my head!"

"You do?"

"Yeah! Can’t you see me?"

"No."

"Where are you?"

"I’m not telling!"

Oh, this is just ridiculous. "I’m gonna go find you, Kath!"

"No you’re not!"

But by this time, I was roaming around. This place did take a few twists and turns, which made me wonder how big we were in comparison to the container. I walked up a large hill, and as I did, I felt the ceiling close down. This must be the open end of the lamp place. Eventually, I saw a small figure curled up near the door to the container. It was Kathleen.

"There you are."

No answer. I looked closely at her. She was in plain overalls -- that much I could tell -- but I couldn’t see her arms or face. Her long red hair covered her neck, too. She stayed in her position, not coming near me. I crawled deeper into the space to come after her.

"Kathleen, it’s ok. Just turn around."

"No. I won’t."

"Come on, Kathleen. You can’t be that bad."

"Yeah I can."

"Did you let Greg see you?"

"No."

"Then how was he talking to you?"

"The same way you were."

I was getting frustrated. "Are you going to spend this entire time feeling sorry for yourself?"

"Yeah."

"What makes you think you can get anything done?"

"I don’t have to. I’m in here."

She’s got a point. Still, I wish she’d just open up a little. It’s tough talking to someone’s back.

"Kathleen, please. Just turn around, ok? You’ll be fine."

"I don’t wanna."

"Kathleen, I can always turn you around. You’re not that big."

"Leave me alone."

"What’s with the sudden attitude change?"

"I don’t mind you. I just don’t want you over here."

"Kathleen, I’m willing to bet you can’t possibly look worse than I do."

"Yeah I do."

"Look, Kath, I’ll close my eyes. You can turn around and see me. When you’re done looking, I’ll open them again. Okay?"

Nothing.

"Kathleen?"

"You promise you won’t look?"

"Yes, I do."

"Okay."

I closed my eyes. "You can look now."

I waited for what was only 15 seconds, but what seemed like an eternity. "Can I open them now?"

"Yeah."

I did so. The same figure, back to me, was sitting there.

"Well?"

"I’m worse."

"Come on... look, just let me see, please?"

I crawled closer and tried to put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched.

"Oww! Don’t do that!"

"Sorry. Look, I... you don’t need to hide from us. We’re here to help. We’re your friends."

Suddenly, Kathleen turned around violently and roared, "The people who made me this were friends!"

I shrunk back from her aggressiveness, then took a second look. I was beginning to see why Kathleen wanted to hide. Her hair was a total mess in front. All over her face and arms were splotches of black. She had no lips to speak of, and her right ear was almost entirely missing. She looked like she’d been through hell.

She started to cry, burying her face in her hands. Her hands were almost entirely darkened, with only the knuckles shining through. I noticed her fingernails were completely gone. Had you just seen her hands, you would’ve sworn they belonged to someone African and not Caucasian.

"Wh... what happened, Kathleen?"

She didn’t move her hands from her face. As such, it was a little hard to understand her, but I think I heard what she said.

"It was back in early July... a bunch of us decided to visit this old building in the middle of town. It had been condemned, but we didn’t care. My friends were all trying to act macho and stuff, talking about how they could last the night in there. I told them to do it. We all... we all headed in... and the next thing I know, the doors were closed behind me. They... they abandoned me!

I pounded on the door, trying to get them to open it. I couldn’t hear them. I raced to a window and looked out it. They were taking off down the road. I was alone... I couldn’t see anything inside the place... the floor was all wet... and there was a funny smell in the air. I just decided to lie down and try to sleep.

That night, I heard a car drive up. I began to pound on the window, hoping to get the attention of the driver. He began to approach the house, but he never made it to the door. I saw him light a match and smoke on some cigarette. He threw the match at the building... right through a crack in the window... to the floor.

All at once, I realized what the smell was. It was gasoline! I was going to be trapped in a burning building! But it was too late. The inferno raced across the floor and came right at me. I tried to climb the stairs to escape it, but near the top, I heard a crunch. I had fallen completely through the rotten wood. The landing knocked me out. That’s the last thing I know."

She turned her back to me again, still crying. I felt numb all of a sudden. I looked at myself and at her -- we were both still here. I couldn’t think of what to do. I just sat down by her side.

"I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I promise I won’t hurt you, Kathleen. I don’t want..."

"Stop. Please. Don’t talk to me about it. This hurts me. I just want it all to go away. I want to live again."

"Kathleen, we are alive! Look at me, or Greg, or Lindsay. We all get to interact in the world. We get to make a difference! It may not be in our original bodies, but right now we can do more for some people than we ever could while alive. If that’s not living... then what is?"

"I’ll tell you what is. Being able to look at an A on a math test is living. Cheering your team on during the Friday night showdown is living. Spending time behind the wheel, learning how the pedals and lights work -- that’s living. We’re not alive. We’re existing."

"Kathleen... there’s more to life than high school. Trust me, I went there. I did more than you. High school is a bunch of artificial nothingness sandwiched around seven hours a day of necessary learning. The people in high school who are the popular ones -- they’re phony. They don’t get the idea. It’s not a popularity contest, and to act like you’re better than other people just because you have the personality, or you’re the head cheerleader, or you date the quarterback... it’s nothing at all. Why would you put so much stock in a part of your life that only lasts four years anyway?"

She turned around as I was speaking to her. Something seemed to click within her mind. I couldn’t tell what it was. As I finally put the question to her, she slapped me across the face. I stared, more in surprise than pain.

"Dammit, Andy, I’m NOT a PHONY!"

She lunged for me, attempting to choke me down. I leapt back as fast as I could, but my footing failed and I tumbled back down the incline. She stared at me from the top, anger across her charred face. I tried to speak to her.

"Kathleen... that’s not what I meant. I’m just saying... life goes on after high school. You have to be prepared for it."

"Sure you did. Whatever. Do friends stab you in the back in the rest of your life, too?"

I didn’t try to answer. I simply walked away and lay down.

*****

Sunday, August 31, 2003

"Greg?"

"Yeah, Andy?"

"I think it might just be the two of us tomorrow."

"Why?"

"Kathleen’s... she’s upset. I went to see her today... there’s a fire in her eyes."

"What kind?"

"What kind...? What do you mean?"

"There’s seven types of fire, Andy. This is one of the things Shawn taught us. Red is wrath. Blue is lust. Green is envy. Gold is greed. Orange is gluttony. Violet is sloth. And white is pride. What was it?"

"Green... I think."

"Ah. What happened?"

"Oh, she was talking to me about high school yesterday. I tried to explain how phony the whole high school social thing is... you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, tell me about it. The football team, the valedictorian... the whole thing was one big stereotype."

"Yeah. Well, anyway, I tell her that the popular people are the phony ones, you know, trying to cheer her up, and she lashes out at me. I think she was popular."

"Oh dear. Andy... why?"

"I was trying to make her feel better. I was trying to say friends in high school aren’t important."

"Andy, I... I could’ve told you that was a bad idea. Come on... you basically tried to shatter her world."

"No I didn’t!... okay, I guess I did, but it was for her good!"

"Andy, the best thing you can do is let her realize this on her own. Anyway, if she’s going to have a week to think about it, that might be a good thing. It’ll let her realize what the deal is."

"Yeah, but... wait... why green? What was she jealous of?"

"I can’t say... did she say anything else recently?"

"Well, she mentioned that she couldn’t have a family, or go to college, and that it was her friends’ fault, and... wait, Greg! That’s it!"

"What is?"

"I think she was looking forward to life. I think she’s jealous of her friends, who get to live on for deserting her, while she’s stuck in this... this!"

"Yeah... that makes sense, actually. Anyway... if she’s gone, and it’s just us, what should we do?"

"I’ve been thinking... Greg, you know how I said that a bunch of us were jumped, and all that?"

"Yeah. You mentioned getting mugged."

"Well, just before I came here, Paul said Chavo might be a victim too. I found that kinda weird, because I don’t know how he’d know. I think the best thing for us to do would be to talk to the people who were hurt... make sure they’re all right, you know? I don’t want anyone to be in trouble."

"Right... good idea. I guess we’ll check with Paul in the morning, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, see you tomorrow, then, Andy. I don’t know about you, but... I think I’m ready to begin again."

"Me too."

*****

Monday, September 1, 2003, 08:11 AM

New Orleans, LA

Cypress Hill’s CD blared in my ears as I struggled to my senses. I looked around for the source, but it was clear on the other side of the room. My roommate -- whoever that was -- hadn’t been awakened by it yet. I looked around at my new surroundings.

My bag was on the floor beside me. I looked for an airplane ticket, but couldn’t find it. That’s weird. I remember that we were supposed to be up in Boston and New York. Why isn’t there any sign of flying in to here? Are we still in New York?

I found my glasses lying on the bag. I decided I didn’t need to put them on yet. I could handle seeing someone else in the mirror staring back at me by now. I glanced up at the room service menu just to check things. We’re in New Orleans? But why? Is anyone else here?

I looked into the mirror, and suddenly, everything clicked. We must have driven here from New York. We could afford to do the drive because the house shows didn’t need us. But tomorrow, they’ll need me. They need me more than anyone else out there. And I think I know why Cypress Hill is in my roommate’s wake-up call, too.

The face I saw staring back at me was of Michael Cole.

*****

Thus endeth Part I. You're welcome.

[The Third Dukes]

Hi, I'm back. Bout damn time, too.

Anyway, the most common reaction I got from the announcement that Michael Cole would be Andy's assignment for a week was, "Michael Cole?" Yeah, I know, he's not popular, but I felt it would be a way to write a show in a very difficult format: transcript. I actually wanted to try it, but I soon figured out it wasn't worth the space or time. Maybe I'll pull it out for a special show in another diary. This ain't it.

What this is, is a first look at the RAW brand. A *ton* of potential stories were set up here. Some (Regal) delivered, some (Gerwitz) were forgotten immediately, and some (Lawler) were somewhere in between. However, the main point of this week was to try to establish some storyline. DavyRam actually suggested a story, and it wound up being the catalyst for about five or six subplots. In the end, the OMEGA people became my favorite sub-story -- a bunch of people about my age and how they interact with each other in a soap-opera-style manner.

In addition, this chapter features RAW from backstage, as Andy (Michael Cole) and Tazz wander around and try to make nice with the other roster. Heck, not like they're needed for the house show circuit, right? You can, however, see that I'm throwing a lot of things at the wall and seeing what would stick. It should also be noted that on-screen, I was trying to mimic the WWE -- when they called up Rob Conway and brought back Mark Henry, so did I. While Henry has a niche in my universe, Conway somehow never really got over and has been floundering, despite loads of talent.

Something else on-screen: the debut of what would quickly become one of my personal favorite segments to write when I switched this diary to straightforward mode, RNN. Whether you think Randy Orton has the charisma or not, he was at his best when he was doing breaking news about his shoulder. I always thought that if they were going to break Jericho away from the Highlight Reel, Orton would make a good choice -- not the best (Kevin Nash would have PERFECTLY fit the role), but good nonetheless.

Oh, and I wish I could say that Hurricane and Lita "discussing old times" meant something, but it didn't. It was a throwaway line.

Finally, let me apologize for something that may offend people -- although if it does, you might as well stop reading now, because I haven't even begun to push the envelope: William Regal the person and William Regal the character speak in the same form of British accent. Having only been to London, I just assumed that there were two types of English talk: cockney and Queen's. I gave William an overblown variation of his Queen's English as a result. Quite a few Britons let me know that Darren Matthews (Regal), being from Blackpool, would not speak in either accent. But by that time, the die was already cast, as Caesar would say.

*****

Chapter 16

RAW's Cajun Rage

Monday, September 1, 2003, 12:14 PM

New Orleans, LA

Okay, let's review the situation. I am Michael Cole. Tomorrow, in front of 15,000 or so people in New Orleans, I am being expected to call two consecutive hours of play-by-play for SmackDown! Right now, I am supposed to be reporting to Paul Heyman. But Paul isn't here. I suppose I could tell Shawn, but... well, Shawn isn't here either. He's in Lafayette. Of course, Paul could call Shawn and see if I'm with him, but that won't solve anything either... man, this is going to be a mess.

"Yo, Coleslaw... what's eatin you?"

"Oh... I was just thinking about... well, about the guys in Mexico."

"Ah yeah... tough for them, ain't it?"

"Well, I mean... what if that had been us, T?" Did I just call him that? Who knew? "What if we'd been down there. I'm not much better than Zach, and you know what happened to him."

"Oh... like that? Well... it wasn't us. You weren't there, and I weren't there, right? And hey, what happened to Gowen... could've easily happened to him in the ring. We're performers, right?"

"It's not that easy, Tazz. It's... it's not. I mean, no, I wasn't there, but... doesn't it bother you that it's always the vulnerable ones that get hurt? I mean, I'd feel a little better about it if Taker had been jumped, or Bradshaw... you know, because they could defend themselves. Right now, I should be upset, but I'm... just... sad."

"Hey... we gotta talk about it on TV, right? Maybe when we see ol' Zach backstage, we'll feel better."

"Is he still with us? Wouldn't he go home?"

"Nah... kid's a trooper. Don't worry MC. He's gonna be all right. He'll be back soon enough."

"I hope so."

Man, it's times like this that I wish I had someone to talk to who knew my plight. I mean, there's only so much you can do without breaking character. How could I explain to Tazz that I know how Zach felt firsthand? I couldn't! But I could possibly talk to someone else about it... if only we could meet up...

"Hey, Tazz, you wanna head to Lafayette tonight?"

"You mean for RAW? Sure thing! Hey, after lunch let's hit the road!"

"Thanks."

*****

03:44 PM

Lafayette, LA

We wandered backstage looking for the various heads of the RAW brand. I saw Hurricane and Lita talking off to one side about old times. Molly and Trish were seen approaching Pat Patterson about teaming up that night. Chris Nowinski was engaging Triple H in a game of chess. Boy, talk about cerebral assassinations there. And all the while, Ric Flair was putting the moves on anything he could.

I ducked down a back alley and turned towards the visitors' locker room in the Cajundome. There sat Vince and Shane McMahon along with Jim Ross, Jerry Lawler, and Brian Gerwitz, planning last-second details about the show at hand. None of them saw me, and I didn't see who I was looking for. Blessed with a sort of anonymity, I switched my regular glasses for my special ones.

The transformation that was undergone in the room startled me. I expected to see only four of the people still present, but I didn't even see that. Only Shane and JR remained. Lawler and Gerwitz were every bit the lost souls that Vince was. Wow... from being the intermediary to falling off the cart... amazing.

"Hey, you... no looking in on business. Follow me."

I turned around. Shawn Michaels was staring at me, giving me a stern look. I followed him back to the main locker room, where he dragged me aside and spoke in a hushed tone.

"Michael... what are you doing here? I've been getting calls all day from Heyman about you."

"Well, Shawn, he's not due in until tonight. I don't know how I got here... I mean, Tazz and I came together, but... I'm as confused as you are."

"Confused? Dude, if you came with Tazz, just say so."

"Oh... sorry, Shawn... you just mentioned Paul and I thought he was asking about me in particular... like he was one guy short."

The words seemed to sink in with Shawn. He realized I was trying to talk to him in code. He put on his glasses and looked at me again. Then, as quickly as he'd put them on and made a mental note of who I was, he removed them.

"Hey... I was wondering about that. Yeah, Paul called me to see if you were with me. I'd better let him know you're safe. He's been freaking out about you and Kath... thought he had no one to go to."

"Oh, Kathleen... I can explain. She's..."

"Still recovering? I thought so. Paul mentioned that things got a little tense in there. Look, next time you try to talk to her, try to be gentle. She was only 16, remember?"

"Am I horning in?"

Shawn and I looked in the direction of the voice. I didn't see anything. Shawn evidently did, and he handled the conversation.

"Oh, William, it's you. No, we were just going over notes for the week's shows. Michael wanted to watch RAW backstage."

"Oh... well, that sounds like a bloody good idea. Michael, I don't know if anyone's said, but I suggest you go back to your old prescription lenses, or at least get some contacts. Those things make you look like a Punch and Judy act."

I simply smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I know." I didn't try to do any more, since I didn't know if he was even looking my way or not. The less I participated in the conversation, the better.

"Anyway, William," Shawn continued, "I heard that Trish and Molly wanted to work together... they're our two strongest divas in the ring, so it would be in our best interest to make sure they are featured as much as possible. Any ideas?"

"I have a few, yes... I think if we built Molly up for a big win over Jazz to legitimize her face turn, we'll all be in the black as far as prestige. Molly's a sweet young thing, and as long as she's face, we can postpone the Molly/Trish angle towards WrestleMania, don't you think?"

"Yeah... so who does Jazz team with? I mean, we're short a few divas, you know."

An idea came to me. "How about Teddy Long?"

Shawn looked at me funny. William must have, too, judging from his response: "What? A bloody manager in the ring with a group of ladies? Are you flippin' mad, Michael Cole?"

Shawn then seemed to be thinking. "Actually, William, he has a good idea... but how about if we make it a Back Alley Street Fight -- you know, have Teddy Long say it's a sista's environment and all that."

William must have been thinking. If only he hadn't seen me with these on. I could've removed them by now.

"You know, Shawn, I think it might be a cracking idea. I'll go tell Mr. McMahon about it, and see if he approves."

"Excellent."

Shawn's eyes followed off to the distance as I heard footsteps moving in the direction of the RAW writing team. Eventually, after what seemed like about 10 times longer than it was, Shawn turned to me.

"Okay, he's gone. You can take the glasses off."

I did so. "Whew. I thought I'd never get the chance."

"I'm sure you saw something about Regal. We know all about it. There's a lot of trouble on this side -- morale's in the tank. Triple H is ruling the roost, and there's really nothing we can do about it. It's frustrating a lot of people... a few of them are turning away."

That might explain Gerwitz. "So what can I do?"

"Well, I'm not sure yet. See, you're only here today. The best thing you can do is what Paul told me Greg was trying -- work with the victims in Juarez."

"Yeah... I'd love to."

"Oh, dammit, that's right... look, Andy, you're over that. Physically, it's all over. You're free of scars. Mentally... well, mentally, if you want to drop it, drop it. You're not Zach. And spiritually, rest assured, you're alive and brighter than ever. So just buck up a little. I'll work on the rest."

That doesn't help me now.

"Okay, but... the gang isn't coming in until tomorrow. What do I do until then?"

"Talk to JR and King, man. Compare notes. Act like you're his understudy."

"Am I?"

"Well... Ross is a little self-conscious. He and Vince aren't on the best of terms, and he is afraid of his retirement. That's why Coach is being fazed in. Soon enough, Cole is going to be the Voice of Wrestling in most locations. More than Coach, more than Tenay, more than Matthews... and JR wants to go out on his terms. So as long as you don't act like a threat, it'll be all right."

"But what if... what if he makes a big mistake?"

Shawn didn't reply.

"Shawn?"

"Andy, maybe it's best if JR doesn't see Cole. He won't listen to you if you try to correct him. He doesn't trust you."

"Is he... jealous?"

"No. Just scared. It's kinda like I was way back when."

"What do you mean?"

"Well... you notice how I almost never lost the title? I mean, I'd get hurt or break up the team or..."

"Yeah, I saw your matches... what about it?"

"I was scared that I wouldn't be remembered. I was scared that people would see me as weak and move on to someone else. I didn't want to give it away. I wish I had just allowed myself to lose. All the enemies I had -- all the bridges I had to rebuild -- it wasn't worth the invincibility."

"And that's what J.R. feels? Vulnerable?"

"Yeah. He doesn't want to be forced out. And the funny thing is... if he isn't careful, he's setting himself up to BE forced out. I've seen it in Vince. He's just waiting for the right time. I keep wondering if JR's just around to humor Austin."

"What would happen if he left?"

"I don't know... it would be... he might work for the Jarretts, or Feinstein, or with Styles... but I just see him spending his days being bitter."

"He's that proud?"

"He's that scared. He doesn't want to admit he's lost it."

"But isn't it obvious to everyone?"

"There's only a few that matter. If JR doesn't know it's over, and Austin doesn't know it's over... well... things are gonna get ugly when Vince pulls the plug."

"When will that be?"

"We don't know."

*****

05:57 PM

The dark matches were just finishing up. Heat would begin taping in a few minutes. I was still on the phone, attempting to get through to the boys in New Orleans. As I dialed and re-dialed, various people saw me yelling at the phone. That's one habit of mine that didn't die with me. Finally, I got through.

"Heyman here."

"Hi, Paul. It's Michael Cole. Shawn said you wanted to talk to me?"

"One second, please." I heard something wiggle around, then a door open. I didn't know what was going on over there, but Paul seemed to be trying to fix something. "Okay, Andy, I'm in the conference room now. What are you doing in Lafayette?"

"Well, I needed to talk to someone, so Tazz and I came over to watch RAW and help JR and Lawler. While I was here, I was talking to Shawn... thinking he might be of some help."

"Okay... I can understand... look, in the future if you're separated like that -- like if you're at a publicity signing or doing rehab or whatever -- call me first, okay? Greg and I were worried."

"Right... who is he anyway?"

"Greg? He's RVD this week. Kathleen's still in Recovery. You know, Andy, you gotta be more careful when you talk to people. Seriously, the things you said were just wrong."

"Sorry, Paul. She just..."

At this point, Goldust walked by. "Michael... Shawn told me to see you."

"Um, Paul, can I call you back. Someone wants to talk to Mi... to me."

"Sure. Catch you after the show."

I hung up. "Can I help you?"

"No need to act," Goldust said. "I can see right through you."

I hastily put on my glasses. "Lindsay?"

"Shhhh... don't say that too loudly. People will think you're crazy."

"Oh yeah... what do you want?"

"I wanted to see how you were doing, and to let you know who I was."

"Thanks... how are we going to communicate?"

"I'm in your messenger list. Look for me Friday afternoon. We'll catch up then."

"Okay... sounds good. Now, move on. You got a show to do."

"Sort of. I'm only on Heat. I get the rest of the night off. So you wanna watch?"

"Sure. That's why I'm here. Actually..." I checked my watch. "Darnit, I gotta find Tazz and JR. I'll catch you later."

"Sure thing." Before I knew what else happened, Goldust grabbed me and planted a kiss right on my forehead. I stared at him.

"Lindsay, are you crazy?" I shout-whispered. "Don't do that! You'll give yourself away!"

"Not this week. Anything weird I do is just another act from..." she took a deep breath inward. "...Gooooooldusssssst."

She walked on, totally into her act. I thought about what she did and skipped on towards the curtain, ready to help out.

*****

07:47 PM

Only a few people knew I had shown up so far. RAW was going to begin in ten minutes or so. I found Tazz and told him that today we might be better off watching and helping in the back as we could. Tazz agreed, saying Lawler was giving him some mixed signals about his presence.

"Lawler's giving you static? About what?"

"Well, I think he fears us, Coleslaw. I mean, it's somethin' I've seen before... you know, we're the now, he's the then, and so on... it's like Vinnie Mac was with ECW, ya know?"

"Heard that before... Shawn was just telling me J.R. felt the same way about me."

"Well, I think you got a ways to go before you catch him, Cole. But you'll get there."

"Um... thanks?"

"Don't mention it. We got a show to watch."

He walked off to the locker room, chuckling to himself as he did so. After a few seconds of trying to sort out if I should be offended or not, I followed.

In the locker room was most of the RAW team. Al Snow and Michael Hayes -- the new HeAT crew since the promotion of Jonathan Coachman -- were busy going over last-minute sound bites for their broadcast. Meanwhile, the main people were gathered in the front of the big screen, awaiting their cues. HHH, of course, sat up front, next to Vince and Shane.

I took my seat near the back. Tazz and I were seated on the end of one of the rows. He took the outside, which left me boxed in, something I wasn't comfortable with in life and only slightly more so now. Next to me, though, was Lita, her neck showing visible scars from her surgery. Reports had been circulating that she would be making her return to television very soon.

"Ahem... may we, Amy?"

"Huh? Oh, it's you, Mike. Sure, go on ahead. I'm not waiting on anyone."

"Thank you."

*****

- The SmarK RAW Rant for Sept. 01 / 03.

- Live from Lafayette, LA.

- Your hosts are Kingfish, Coach, and Good Ol'.

- Opening sportz entertainment segment: Randy Orton has taken over the Highlight Reel, renaming it "RNN NewsDesk". If they're going to go back to percentage updates on various body parts, I can soooo live with this. He's even gone so far as to christen the big screen the "OrTron 200", in what I hope is the start of a new running gag. His first guest: Booker T, who apparently couldn't beat Orton even if his shoulder was down to 46.5%. Ooh, TENTHS of percentages, now we're getting edgy. Booker tries to maintain his composure, but Orton keeps saying he's the past, and that Evolution is the future. He claims Booker will mean nothing on RAW as long as Evolution is here. I love shoot comments that aren't meant to be shoot comments. Booker takes umbrage as only he can, clearing house and attacking the shoulder. Fun little opener.

About a half-dozen people got up out of their seats to report for the next segment. HHH hugged Vince and Shane on the way out. I surreptitiously slipped my glasses on and looked. There was nothing wrong with Trips, contrary to what I might have expected. I removed the glasses before I could be noticed.

I noticed Hurricane on the phone in the background. I couldn't pick up anything in the conversation, but even through the mask, Helms's frustration was showing. I heard the word "Jeff" mentioned. Jeff? Jeff Hardy? What's that all about? I was going to bring it up to Lita, but the commercial ended while she was talking to her fellow Divas.

- Backstage, Evolution gets mad at the segment. Orton thinks of costing Booker the title tonight, but Flair tells him to hold back, grasshopper, because if Booker has the title, Orton's the de facto challenger at Unforgiven. HHH grunts about Goldberg, leading to...

- Handicap match: Goldberg v. La Resistance. Grenier is tossed almost immediately outside the ring into the guardrail, taking a HUGE bump and knocking himself out. Dupree attacks from behind, but Goldberg naturally no-sells. FLAG OF DOOM turns the tide, though, as the referee is checking on Grenier. Dupree works the arm, trying to neutralize the Spear. Figure-four armbar, but Goldberg picks him up and throws him into the corner. Grenier finally rolls back in... and is instantly speared and Jackhammered at 4:29. Everyone sold enough to make it work. *1/2 Maven and Rob Conway are shown in the front row, wearing USA T-shirts. It's like a Mad Libs feud. "<wrestler> and <wrestler> don't like the heels because they're from <country>, so they promise to <verb> them."

Stacy got up around this time and headed out. HHH returned and took his seat. Meanwhile, Rene Dupree limped back into the locker room, with Goldberg helping him out.

"You okay, buddy? I didn't hurt you too bad, did I?"

"No, no... I'll be fine... just that throw to the buckle was really strong, man."

"Hey, sorry. I'm just a bit upset out there about something else."

"It's all right, really, M. Goldberg. I understand."

I looked around. Rene had come in alone. Something didn't seem right.

"Where's Sylvan?" I asked.

Rene looked at me. "Oh, M. Cole, it's just you. Sylvan is off in the clinic, making sure his hamstring is all right. He thinks he tweaked it at SummerSlam, and M. Patterson wants him to give it special attention."

After Dupree took his seat, I looked over at Tazz. He looked back and made an exaggerated wink. I nodded. No words were necessary. I think we both knew what the special attention was all about.

- Spike Dudley v. Scott Steiner. No match, as Steiner just brutalizes Spike before the bell. The referee and Stacy Keibler both insist he stop, but Steiner is on full-blown rage and continues the fight. A stretcher comes out to pull Spike away as Stacy admonishes Scott. Interesting way to start a heel turn, to say the least.

I finally saw that Lita wasn't busy. I got her attention.

"Hey, Michael. Something up?"

"Well, earlier tonight I noticed Hurr... Gregory talking on his phone. He mentioned Jeff... is he OK? I kinda miss the guy."

"Oh... I don't know. He doesn't return calls or e-mails. He's kinda falling off the face of the earth. Matt doesn't want to talk about him. I just let it go. He wanted to be free, and now he is."

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"Well, sure it does -- but I'm not Jeff's mom. There's not much I can do on my own."

"Well, have you talked to Matt about seeing him?"

"I already told you -- Matt doesn't want to deal with it. I don't know why either... look, I'm glad you're concerned, Michael, but... this is Jeff's problem to deal with."

"Okay... I guess." I turned back to face the screen, uncertain as to whom, if anyone, Lita was protecting. One thing I knew: her statements seemed to ring hollow, as if she herself didn't believe them. Was it possible she was simply doing Matt a favor?

- Christian v. Chris Benoit. Just before I'm fully able to mark out, Big Show joins us on commentary. The CANADIAN PHYSICAL INTENSITY is unloaded right at the opening bell, as the announcers play up that Benoit feels he has something to prove. Benoit gets the rolling Germans almost immediately, but a clothesline is ducked, leading to a naked choke drop by Christian for two. Christian goes for a suplex, but Benoit snaps him over. Christian bails, so Benoit hits a tope suicida. Lawler: "Can you do that?" Show: "Don't tempt me." Back in, three MORE German suplexes get two. Christian tries for whatever off the top rope, and Benoit hits the Crossface to complete the homicide in 7:16. I can't even rate that, it was just... wow. Big Show, of course, then challenges Benoit. All muscle, no brain. The match is set for Unforgiven.

The women left their seats and reported to the back. Around this time, Scott Steiner returned. He took a quick seat in the nearest available chair. It happened to be next to Shane McMahon, who seemed less than pleased with the situation.

"Scott's not making too many friends, is he?"

"Doesn't look like it, Cole. He's not got too many friends around here. Hell, Flair had to beg Vinnie just to keep the guy on last month!"

"Really?" Wait, I knew this. No, wait, John Cena knew this. I didn't... ugh... this is confusing.

"Yeah, didn't ya hear?"

"I might have. It all blends in together after a while, you know?"

"Guess so. Hey, what were you talkin' bout with Lita? Invading Matt's turf, Cole?"

"No! I'm not like that!"

"Oh, come on, buddy, you know you wanna."

"Tazz, this isn't the place to talk about this."

I quickly looked over my shoulder to make sure Lita was still oblivious to this conversation. Thankfully, she was.

"Tazz, it was about Hurricane. I was just seeing if everything was okay with him, and, you know, Gregory and Amy go way back and all..."

"Sure... that's all it was."

I rolled my eyes. This was going to be a long week.

- Hardcore match: Molly Holly and Trish Stratus vs. Jazz and Teddy Long. Normally, I'd complain about another hardcore match, but with these four, we're going to need it. Long runs for cover as Jazz rips Trish down. Molly jumps her from behind and all three women get into rolling around in the dirt. I quietly hope Lawler's head explodes from the visual, but no such luck. Long returns with a riding whip, which he uses on Trish. Finally things settle down and the groups pair off. Molly and Jazz remain in the ring, as Molly works the arm. Shoulderbreaker gets two. Jazz with a reverse suplex for two. Single-leg crab, but Trish uses a chair to break. Long returns with a table, as the crowd starts chanting for the Dudley Boyz. Molly goes up top, but Jazz powerbombs her out of the Molly Go Round for two. Jazz hits a missile dropkick for two. A second one is countered as Trish runs in with the handstand rana. Now THAT'S how you do that spot. Acid Drop goes nowhere for Trish, as Long grabs her foot and Jazz slams her down. Molly saves and hits a German suplex for two. Rodney Mack runs in, PASTES Trish with a chairshot, and Jazz crawls over for the pin at 6:25. Entertaining crap. 3/4* Chris Nowinski joins in the post-match fun, but the Dudley Boyz save. A huge brawl erupts and Long goes through the table due to a Stratusfaction.

As everyone returned to their seats, I decided to get up and walk around with Tazz. We were discussing the events of the night so far as we bumped into Trish and Molly, who were discussing their future as a team.

"Oh, dear, I'm sorry, Trish," I stammered as I moved past.

"It's okay... no problem," she replied, winking as she did so. "I hope we bump into each other again." Is she flirting with me??

Meanwhile, Tazz was having less luck. "Hey, Moll, it was an accident, I swears."

"Whatever. Just back off."

Molly stomped away. We both stared at each other. "That was different."

"Yeah, Cole... looks like the ladies love talking to you tonight, eh?"

"No, I mean... Molly was just... she..."

"Eh. Whatever. I can be a bit of a sleaze when I wanna."

We walked on and made our way to the curtain for the next match.

- Meanwhile, in a remote lair somewhere in the building, Lance Storm plots the demise of the Hurricane. He points out he'll need backup, as the Hurricane is a sneaky one, but if he can overwhelm him, he can take over the WWE. Lance needs work on his evil laugh, but he's so into his character I can forgive him.

- Randy Orton v. Hurricane. Speaking of evil sidekicks, we have Randy Orton. I mean, really, isn't it just obvious he's going nowhere fast here? Anyway, Hurricane dives out to start with the CAPE-ASSISTED SUPERMAN SPLASH OF DOOM, knocking down Orton. Back in, Hurricane hits the rana, but a blind charge misses. Orton with Play of the Day for two. Double arm DDT gets two. Kneelift (learning from the master, I see), but Hurricane rolls him up for two. Shining Wizard cues the comeback. Hurricane hits the Overcast for two. RKO is blocked as Hurricane goes for a back body drop for two. KICK WHAM, but Orton's PEDIGREE is blocked, so he settles for a powerbomb for two. Hurricane is stood up, but a running dropkick is ducked, bumping the ref. Lance Storm enters, sprays Hurricane with something that causes him to wilt (with hilarious overacting by Hurricane), and Orton gets an academic RKO for the pin at 6:55. Was the comic book stuff really necessary? ***1/4

I heard some crying off in the distance. I went to investigate. As I rounded the corner, I saw Molly sitting in the training room alone with an icepack and the TV monitor, visibly shaken and upset. She wasn't holding the icepack on any part of her body -- just holding it, as if to try to numb her hand.

"Nora? Are you all right?"

She looked at me. "Oh, it's you. I'm... tell Tazz I'm sorry for being so rude earlier."

"Hey, he took nothing from it. I'm worried. I heard you crying and..."

"Michael, please. Just leave me alone."

"You sure you don't want to talk about it?"

Nora hesitated. She seemed to be looking past me for something. I decided it wouldn't be wise to turn around, in case my instinct was wrong. She finally spoke: "Actually, if you could stay here for a while. I'd probably be a lot better."

"Sure."

- The Rock heads to the ring before the main event. He cuts his usual awesome promo on Kane, talking about how it wasn't personal before, but it is now. We get the return of the SIDEWAYS-TURNED OBJECT OF DOOM, as a can of petroleum wins the honors. Rock basically tells Booker T good luck before heading off to the announce table.

Molly smiled at me during the break. "You know, Michael, you're not as bad as they say you are."

"Who says?"

"Oh, you don't know? Don't worry about it. It's all part of this rivalry."

"No, no... what is it?"

"Oh... J.R. and Lawler love to try to put down you and Tazz. They talk about how they're better than any other commentary team and how you guys should thank them for giving you advice."

"Advice? I don't think I need Jim Ross's advice. Tazz and I have our own style."

"I know that... but like I said, it's all part of this rivalry thing."

"I guess so." I noticed her waist. The Women's Title belt was fastened ultra-tightly around it.

"Nora, why are you wearing your belt now? We're off the air."

She looked at me funny. "You SmackDown guys keep asking me that. Relax. I'm just trying to make sure I don't lose it."

"We're backstage! Put it with your stuff!"

"It's not that easy... I'm... I guess I like to be reminded of how far I've come in my life, and how much work it took to get there."

"Nora, no offense, but... there's something else. I can tell."

"Maybe, but... if I said I didn't want to talk about it, would you understand?"

"Well... not really... I..."

"Michael, please, let's just drop it, ok?"

At this point, William Regal walked in. He pulled off his shoe and began to tape his own ankle. Molly went silent, trying to see if the show was back on. I got up to leave, but I felt Molly's hand on my arm. I decided it might have been best to stay.

- Main event, Intercontinental Title: Booker T v. Kane. Kane slugs Booker down to start, and Booker bails outside. Kane follows, so Booker begins to play stick-and-move with him. Dropkick and clothesline help keep Kane at bay, so Booker charges with a running axe kick... and Kane catches him and dumps him over the top. Oops. Kane drags Booker back in and chokes him down. Referee Earl Hebner admonishes Kane, so Booker climbs up top and hits a missile dropkick and big knee drop for two. Booker tries a suplex, but Kane grabs the chokeslam for two. Kane throws Booker into the corner, but Booker charges out and dives under the big boot, grabbing a MAIN EVENT SLEEPER in the process. Kane shoves him back into the corner, then punches him dead-on in the face. Booker flies out of the ring, but returns with a springboard clothesline (!) for two. Booker goes up top, but gets caught in the Tombstone, only Rock runs in for the DQ at 8:25 to save the title. Normally a DQ finish would be painful, but in this case it was necessary. Kane destroys both men with Tombstones after the match, then chairs Hebner for fun. Booker/Kane were trying to do the Sting/Vader template, and it was ok for what it was. **1/4

The Bottom Line:

Well, fast-forward on Unforgiven, with 4 matches already set some 2 weeks in. I guess the level of cram in the booking kind of requires this, although I don't know if Booker/Orton and Rock/Kane can live up to the hype. Benoit/Show will be all Benoit, and I think we all know how HHH/Goldberg will turn out.

Oh, and Big Show, you WISH you were twice the man Benoit is.

*****

Tuesday, September 2, 2003, 08:15 AM

New Orleans, LA

Tazz and I reported early to the booker's meeting, where Paul Heyman and Vince McMahon were seated. Before I entered, though, a man pulled me aside. It was HHH.

"Cole, what were you doing with Molly last night?"

"What? She... she asked me to stay there and keep her company."

"So you two weren't badmouthing anyone? Cuz Willie says he heard you say some nasty things about JR."

"Me??? No! I was just talking to her about her Women's title! I never said anything about JR."

"You'd better not have. I don't want to have to see if you need to be replaced."

"Yes, sir. I understand."

"Good."

He walked on. I said nothing about JR. I certainly said nothing to anyone while William was in the room. Why would he lie about me? Was I getting in the way of something? I don't understand.

*****

06:55 PM

Tony Chimel stood in the ring. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you the commentary team for UPN's broadcast of tonight's SmackDown! telecast."

The heart monitor sounded up, then flatlined. Fireworks went off as "Thug Superstar" played. Tazz and I walked down the ramp to a good-sized round of applause. I passed by a sign that showed me counting the pin on Vince, with the words "Thank You MC" written on it. I shook the hand of the person who made it and promised them an autograph on the poster later if they wanted.

As we headed to the table, we watched the monitor.

"You ready for this, Tazz?"

"I was born ready, Cole. You ready to rock?"

"Let's do it."

We pounded fists and got ready to begin.

[The Third Dukes]

Ah, I had such grand plans for this SmackDown! I was going to give you every word of every statement from Michael Cole and Tazz. But that would take up too much room, so I just did it the old-fashioned way. Anyhow, the SmackDown! on-screen is notable because you can see some grand plans falling into place. Eddie Guerrero needed to drop the US title, and I figured Kidman was as good a worker as any. After all, he was the only person from that ***** match at SummerSlam who didn't have a belt, so why not reward him? The reign lasted a LOT longer than I thought it might, though, to the point where I wonder if I overdid it. At least one reader thought Kidman as US champ just didn't work.

Also of note: John Cena's face turn, a full two months before the WWE did it. Then again, I held off on OFFICIALLY turning Eddie face for quite some time after this, even when events in the future would seemingly force a man's hand. Why? I'm insane. Deal with it.

Meanwhile, off-mic, one of my personal favorite nicknames made its debut. Throughout the rest of the week -- and whenever I had a chance -- Michael Cole became "Gordo". See, Gordo is short for Gordon Coley, which sounds like Gordon Solie, who is only the most revered announcer wrestling has ever had. It was funnier at the time, trust me.

The Hogan match was simply a way to show that Hogan had indeed changed and was more of a team player. It soon had the unexpected side effect of helping get Rhyno over a LOT. SmackDown! was just on a roll at this time.

Also, the WGTT v. Spanky/Tajiri match was an excuse to build to a TLC match in Raleigh in two weeks, so that Matt and Shannon could win the titles. It was an outstanding match, but that was coincidence. Actually, the tradition of random people challenging WGTT continued for a while, until finally I struck gold by pairing Tajiri with Ultimo Dragon, trying to establish a new tag team. You'll see how THAT went.

Oh yeah, and Paul London debuts. He was getting to the point where I had to use him, but had no clue how. He has since found a niche, teaming with Nova to bolster SmackDown!'s tag ranks.

Off-screen: The concern over Chavo dissipated almost immediately, although you can see me trying to build it as an issue here. Trust me, I couldn't think of how to do it and the whole thing went nowhere. However, the idea of Cole and Tazz as roommates in Red Hook splitting rent seemed humorous enough to include. If you like, you can play the theme from the old TV show "Odd Couple" here. It would fit.

*****

Chapter 17

Behind the Mic(hael)

- The SmarKdown! Rant for Sep. 04 / 03

- Taped from New Orleans, LA

- Your hosts are Michael Cole and Tazz.

- Opening match, US Title: Eddie Guerrero v. Billy Kidman. Guerrero attacks to start, working the lower back of Kidman. Kidman reverses a cross-corner whip and hits the 10 punch countalong, and Eddie bails. Kidman does his backflip out after him to drive the crowd wild. Back in, Eddie pulls hair to stop the momentum and grabs the abdominal stretch -- with the ropes. Eddie's trying sooooo hard to be a heel here, but the crowd doesn't get it. Or want to. Or something. Anyway, slingshot senton gets two. Tornado DDT gets two. Eddie gets frustrated and pulls out the rolling verticals, but Kidman blocks the third one, only for Eddie to make it a DDT for two. Oh, TAG. To the top, and Eddie with a Frankensteiner for two. Frog splash hits the knees, giving Kidman two. Powerbomb try, but even Eddie Guerrero has to learn that YOU CAN'T POWERBOMB KIDMAN! That gets two. Kidman tries the Unprettier, but Eddie shoves him off into the ref. Eddie goes for the belt, but Undertaker does a ride-in and yanks the belt away. Eddie tries to attack him, but Taker no-sells, allowing Kidman to get a bulldog and the Shooting Star for the pin and the title at 9:20. Normally I'd be pissed that Undertaker stuck his nose in a perfectly good match, but we all know it's main event time for Eddie anyway, and the US Title was an anchor. ***1/2

I turned to Tazz during the commercial break. "Good grief. Eddie's out there cheating like there's no tomorrow and they still cheer for him! Why don't they turn him?"

Tazz mused for a while. "They will, probably... just as soon as this thing with Taker's over. I just see that being the big thumbs-up, you know?"

"I hope so. It seems ludicrous that we have heels being cheered. Not just Eddie, but Cena as well."

"Dude... check the script."

"I know, I know... but it's gone on too long."

"Well, that's the sort of thing th-- oh, back in 5."

- Test is angry. Yeah, what else is new? He accuses Stephanie of not having the cojones to use him. Well, DUH. Didn't they teach sex education in Toronto? Anyway, John Cena of all people defends her honor, and Test objects. The fight is on, and Cena appears to have it won, allowing the face turn to be official. Ah, but Test comes back and hits the Boot, causing the Usual Idiots to break up the festivities. Crowd is RABIDLY cheering on Cena here. Good move.

"Whew," I said as we went to break. "What else could go on tonight? This is crazy."

"Welcome to SmackDown!, Cole. Honestly, you've been here as long as I have with the split and all. Didn't you know this is how things go?"

"Well, sure, but..." but this is the first time I've experienced it up close and personal.

"But what? You all right, Cole?"

"Yeah... just that today is going fast even by our standards. I mean, one title change, one turn... what else could happen?"

"Just wait."

"I know... okay, we're back in 5."

- Cruiserweight title: Rey Misterio v. Paul London. I was wondering when the guy would get the call to the big leagues. London attacks early, but gets nowhere. Lockup, and Rey takes over with about 5 different ranas. Outside, London tosses Rey into the STEEL steps and gets two back inside. London hits an electric chair drop for two. Swanton Bomb gets two. Rey with a Greco-Roman ballshot to cue the comeback. A trio of dropkicks puts London in place for the 619, but he catches Rey mid-swing and turns it into a guillotine on the top rope. Ouch. It gets two. London bridge (har har) gets two. London tries a piledriver, but Rey wiggles out into a headscissors. 619 hits for real, and West Coast Pop finishes at 8:44. What's all this wrestling doing on a wrestling show, anyway? ***1/2 Jamie Noble attacks him after the match to make sure Rey knows his place or something.

- "Desire" video featuring Zach Gowen. Figures. Just as soon as they make a star, life interjects. Well, thankfully he doesn't have a title to forfeit and demand land on the waist of his friend. Although with Hogan back, you can never be sure...

"Shame what happened to Zach, isn't it, Tazz?"

"Yeah, no doubt, Cole. I was beginning to like the little guy, too. He was provin' he belonged and all that. Ah well, I'm sure when he gets back he'll be ready to go again. Just wish it could be sooner rather than later."

My mind began to wander back to that night. I was flashing back, though, not to Juarez, but to Recovery. As if on its own, my conscious jumped from being beaten physically to the emotional beating I gave Kathleen. Why don't people warn me about these things?

"Cole? You ready to go?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah."

"Don't worry bout Zach, he'll kick ass as always. Back in 5."

- Tag Team Title match: World's Greatest Tag Team v. Spanky and Tajiri. Giant brawl to start, and Tajiri hits Haas with a few dozen kicks and gets two before Shelton saves. Spanky tries for Sliced Bread #2, only to get caught by Shelton into a back suplex for two. Tajiri delivers a handspring elbow to Haas, who stumbles over Spanky into a rollup for two. Shelton hits a superkick on Tajiri for two. One minute has elapsed, by the way. ONE MINUTE! Spanky goes for a rana, but gets caught by Haas as Tajiri is escorted to his corner, allowing Shelton to do the leapfrog choke. Haas hits a German suplex for two as Spanky is YOUR face-in-peril. Shelton in with a dropkick (MAJOR airtime) for two. Knees in the corner and he hits the chinlock as we take a commercial break.

"Whew. That was a wild first minute, eh, T?"

"No kidding. I wish I could go like that in my day."

"Yeah. And I wish I could referee a match like that. It looks classic."

"No doubt. I hope the crowd knows we're in the chinlock cuz of the break."

"Don't worry, these two can go off of it for a while."

"Yeah, I hope so."

"Heads up, Tazz. Back in 10."

"Gotcha, Coleslaw. Let's rock and roll."

We return with Spanky trying to walk the ropes to reverse the hold, but Shelton lets him fall. Ouch. Haas in, and a figure-four gets several two-counts. Shelton shoots the half-nelson for two. Heel miscommunication leads to a false tag, allowing WGTT to get off their finishing sequence for two before Tajiri saves. Spanky dropkicks Haas into Shelton, but Haas cuts him off JUST before the hot tag as the Southern crowd goes bats. Shelton with an STO of sorts for two. Haas flies in with the Oklahoma Jam and Oklahoma roll for two. Shelton misses a clothesline, Spanky ranas him down, and FINALLY it's a hot tag for Tajiri. Kicks paste both men, and Tajiri hits the Tarantula on Haas. Shelton baseball slides him to break, causing Haas to roll forward straight into a cross-body from Spanky for two. Oh, TAG. WGTT go for the Doomsday Device, but Tajiri crotches Shelton and Spanky hits a Victory Roll for two. Crowd is having a heart attack. Haas goes for a back body drop, but Spanky tries a sunset flip. Haas partially blocks, so Tajiri mists him to send him over... and gets DQ'ed at 15:10. Any other ending in the world and it's a MOTYC. ****1/4 WGTT continue the fight, so Ron Simmons and Bradshaw hit the ring. But Tajiri pastes Simmons with a superkick and all three teams are going at it. The crowd is TOTALLY behind the A.P.A. here, which is frightening. Everyone tries to clear the ring as we take a break.

"Man... how can you top that?" Tazz was short of breath as he turned to me. "That was... wow."

"Tazz, remember yesterday in Lafayette? Well, this morning HHH came up to me and told me I was talking about replacing JR. You never heard this, did you?"

"Not from anyone I consider reliable, no. I mean, William Regal was trying to put the badmouth on you, but he's so stuck-up, half the RAW guys don't believe him. What happened, anyway?"

"I was seeing if Molly Holly was okay in the trainer's room when Regal came in. He didn't like me there, so I got up to leave, but Molly tugged on my sleeve and motioned for me to stay until he left. I swear, that was it."

"I dunno, Cole... I would think that maybe those two..."

"Oh, come on. Molly's a virgin and proud of it, you know that!"

"Just sayin', Gordon Coley. HAHAHA!"

"Gordon what?"

"Never mind... I thought it was cute. Okay, back in 5."

- During the Break, we see Rey Misterio and Torrie Wilson get beaten down by Jamie Noble and Nidia. Well, ain't that special.

- Test v. John Cena. And dear God, would you hear the pop Cena gets on his entrance? Cena dominates to start, winning a slugfest and hitting a German suplex for two. Test hits the Boot for two to turn the tide. Testdrive gets two. Cena blocks a second try and hits a boot to the face of his own. Owenzuigiri gets two. He goes up top for the Super Fallaway, but Test blocks and falls on top for two. Test goes low, earning a warning from the ref. So Cena goes low in reply, and he gets warned. Test tries for the pumphandle, but this time Cena falls on top for two. Quasi-famouser follows, along with a Samoan drop for two. F-U is countered by Test into a pinning combination for two. Cena is doing all the work here, of course. Test blocks a shouldertackle and tosses Cena into the referee. Test grabs the chain, but Cena knocks it out of his hand and delivers the F-U. He revives the ref rather physically, but Test pops him with the chain as he heads over. Test gets two. Cena rolls him up for two. Both men argue over the count, and a simultaneous ref shot guarantees a no contest at 7:44. Both men continue fighting to the back. **

"Okay, what's next?"

"Alright, Gordo, it looks like a busy segment here... we got a Brock interview, Eddie's challenge for next week, and Hogan against Rhyno."

"Why do you keep calling me Gordon?"

"Solie, man. Heard of him?"

"Ohhhhhhh, Gordon SOLIE. Right, stupid me. I can't believe I forgot about him."

"Yeah, only the greatest announcer ever, man."

"I know, I know."

"Don't worry about it, MC. Just get ready for the next match. It's pretty packed."

"Right, I saw. Run-ins everywhere, a tag match the next week... yikes. Okay, back in 5."

- Backstage, Brock Lesnar waxes poetic about Kurt Angle's request for a rematch. Short answer: Earn it.

- Rhyno v. Hollywood Hogan. Oh, joy, Hogan's back. LOCKUP OF DOOM is won by Hogan, but Rhyno charges out and tackles Hogan. Kicking and punching follows by both men, and to the outside, where Hogan does the BACKRAKES OF DOOM to liven things up. Back in, Hogan goes for the ten punches, so Rhyno powerbombs him out of the corner. Powerslam gets two. To the bearhug, but it's not Brock so Hogan powers out. Rhyno with an airplane spin (!) and a drop toehold (!!) for two. He hits the rope straddle for two. Cross-corner whip into a GORE GORE GORE gets... two. Hulk up, yada yada yada legdrop... gets two. Huh. And now A-Train runs in and tosses a chair into the ring. The ref goes to dispose of it, leading to Rhyno and Train doing the T&A whip combo, ending in a GORE GORE GORE for the pin (!!!) at 6:24. Not as excruciating as I expected it would be, and Hogan lost, which is all I ask for. * Rhyno and Train continue the beating, and RVD again saves Rhyno's victim. Hmmm.

- Backstage, Eddie Guerrero challenges Undertaker to a match next week. If Eddie goes over, I'll be happy.

I looked at the last page. "Wow... show's almost over, Tazz. Any thoughts so far?"

"Yeah, you owe that kid in the aisleway an autograph."

"I know, I know... I mean about the show."

"Well, I mean... whew... it's been wild. When even Hogan works his ass off, you know it's a special night."

"Yeah, no kidding. All right, ready for the main event?"

"I guess so. Hey... don't forget we're on for only 90 next week."

"Oh yeah, thanks. All right, back in 5."

- Main event: Kurt Angle and Undertaker v. A-Train and Matt Hardy. Matt Facts: Matt gets more beads than his brother at Mardi Gras, and Matt's career record over the Undertaker is above .500. You sure about that one? Taker and Train brawl on the outside while Angle and Matt go at it on the inside. We go to split screen to keep up, as Train and Taker head into the crowd, where the ever-concerned fans attempt to collect Train's back hair. In the ring, Angle nearly gets the Angle Lock, but Matt enzuigiris out of it. Train returns to avalanche Angle, who OF COURSE is face-in-peril. Like there was any doubt. Matt hits the yodeling legdrop for two. Train with a backbreaker for two. The heels do DEMOLITION DECAPITATION~! for two. Matt with a drop toe hold and a camel clutch, but Angle makes the ropes. Matt and Train do a stack superplex for two. Train with a Trainwreck for two. Matt misses a crossbody, hot tag Taker. Soupbone! Soupbone! Soupbone! Chokeslam on Matt, Train saves. The match breaks down as Matt does his brother's railrunner on Taker on the outside. Back in the ring, Angle vaults over top of Train mid-Derailer and sunset flips him for two. As Train kicks out, though, Angle slaps on the Angle Lock for the submission at 9:13. About as good as Kurt v. Matt could've been, averaged with how bad Taker v. Train would have been. **1/4 Brock Lesnar F5s Kurt just to remind everyone who the world champion is.

The Bottom Line:

BRING THE WRESTLING! With the US title off of Eddie, the main event must beckon. And I don't see how the APA can hold down the likely three-way next week. The only thing that sucks is that UPN is doing some stupid show that'll cut SmackDown! short.

This is why the US will always be second to Canada -- UPN.

*****

11:17 PM

I headed back to the hotel with Paul and RVD. We were discussing the show and how it went. I was still nervous about blowing my cover. It was the most I had talked since I died, and every fiber I had felt tired, every nerve frayed.

"How'd I do out there, Paul? Was I too bad?"

"Too bad?" he said in mock surprise. "If anything you were too good! Cole usually makes a mistake or two out there. This was one of his best performances!"

"Really? Thanks, Paul."

"Hey, I can tell you were doing your best. Seriously, there were a few things we can fix in post-prod, but nothing you need to worry about. Now, a few days of rest are in order. Oh, and Lindsay wanted me to remind you to get on AOL Friday afternoon. Around 2 o clock, she said. Got it?"

"Sure. Hey, Greg, notice anyone troubled backstage?"

"I don't know... I mean, Eddie was okay, but I haven't seen Chavo all week. Eddie told me he was back in El Paso filing a police report so that he could get the insurance on the cars."

"All right... we'll see him this weekend."

"I think so."

*****

Thursday, September 4, 07:55 PM

Red Hook, New York

"Hey, Coleslaw, get in here. We're almost on the air!"

"All right!"

Tazz was kind enough to let me room up with him. I had no idea if this was permanent or not, but for the week, I didn't mind the company. At the very least, I could stop being concerned about my duties.

The meeting with Vince yesterday for post-production had gone on without a hitch. I tried to talk to him afterwards about the accusations Regal had made, but he hadn't heard of them yet. When I explained that HHH confronted me, he seemed a little calmer. He told me that whether it's true or not, I knew what I could or couldn't do in the future. If things are false, he said, I would be the first to receive an apology from HHH. I left with a smile on my face, certain that Nora would exonerate me.

"Got the popcorn, T?"

"All set. Let's hit UPN, babee!"

[The Third Dukes]

Well, I couldn't make an "outside the box" post with the transcript of SmackDown!, so I made a different "outside the box" post: an IM transcript! Please note that these are not the real IM names of Michael Cole and Dustin Runnels. I hope. I really hope.

Okay, my game was beginning to take over the way I was playing, and since EWR4 doesn't know what to do with roster splits, morale was tanking all around. In some cases, this was very bad -- John Cena would never recover his morale -- and in some, it was a blessing. I never could write for Goldberg, and I thought his stuff in the WWE was a complete waste, so I let him walk out here. Actually, it made the buildup to Unforgiven that much more intriguing. And that's my story. And I'm sticking to it.

And, of course, it'll be time for someone knew soon.

*****

Chapter 18

Hello, Goodbye

Friday, September 5, 2003, 02:11 PM

GolDustin has signed in.

SDCole: hi

GolDustin: hey!

GolDustin: andy?

SDCole: yeah!

GolDustin: hi

GolDustin: how's life as cole?

SDCole: awesome

SDCole: tazz is so cool

SDCole: how's your week?

GolDustin: can't complain

GolDustin: terri says hi

SDCole: ok

SDCole: how is she?

GolDustin: she's wonderful

GolDustin: she loves me you know

SDCole: you mean she loves Dustin

GolDustin: yeah

GolDustin: lol

SDCole: do you do anything about that?

GolDustin: huh?

SDCole: i mean

SDCole: can you love her back?

GolDustin: we are married

SDCole: but you're not

GolDustin: ohhhh

GolDustin: I see

GolDustin: well we could

GolDustin: but I haven't

SDCole: why not?

GolDustin: I'm not used to my role

SDCole: your role?

GolDustin: yeah

GolDustin: this is lindsay, remember?

SDCole: *lightbulb*

SDCole: I get it lol

GolDustin: yeah

GolDustin: so how's sd going?

SDCole: great

SDCole: tazz and I watched it yesterday

SDCole: he's a great guy

GolDustin: cool

GolDustin: no problems then?

SDCole: well

SDCole: matt's kinda bumming out

SDCole: I tried to talk to him about jeff

SDCole: and he wouldn't say anything

GolDustin: really?

SDCole: can u talk to helms about it?

GolDustin: I'll try

GolDustin: he's usually busy with geek stuff

SDCole: like what?

GolDustin: comic books

GolDustin: computer games

GolDustin: that sort of thing

SDCole: oh i see

SDCole: how's the raw morale?

GolDustin: not good

GolDustin: things are falling apart here

SDCole: why?

GolDustin: goldberg

GolDustin: 's threatening to walk

SDCole: really?

GolDustin: yeah

GolDustin: he's upset at not being over

SDCole: well

SDCole: whose fault is that?

GolDustin: I know

GolDustin: but a lot of it is hhh's too

GolDustin: he doesn't put people over

SDCole: so?

SDCole: it's not his say

GolDustin: ummm

SDCole: right?

GolDustin: it is

GolDustin: he has creative control

SDCole: why?

GolDustin: steph

SDCole: ugh

GolDustin: I know

SDCole: is he abusing it?

GolDustin: kinda

GolDustin: I mean

GolDustin: goldberg's not clicking

SDCole: why not?

GolDustin: dunno

GolDustin: he's just becoming old fast

SDCole: wow

SDCole: that's weird

GolDustin: yeah

GolDustin: is hogan like that?

SDCole: no, actually

SDCole: he's been a total team player

SDCole: even put rhyno over

GolDustin: saw that

GolDustin: next week should be awesome

SDCole: why?

GolDustin: I'm main eventing

SDCole: you are?

GolDustin: well, goldust is

GolDustin: lol

GolDustin: I won't be

SDCole: yeah

SDCole: that's so weird

GolDustin: I told ya

GolDustin: it'll take time to get used to

SDCole: I know

GolDustin: so

GolDustin: how's greg doing?

SDCole: he's holding on

SDCole: having a blast

SDCole: I mean

SDCole: I don't see him or anyone much right now

GolDustin: yeah I know

GolDustin: I hated being lawler or jr

GolDustin: couldn't talk to anyone

SDCole: not even like this?

GolDustin: not the same

SDCole: I guess not

GolDustin: don't you want to talk to people in person?

SDCole: yeah

SDCole: but that's not doable

GolDustin: can't you visit philly?

SDCole: tazz isn't fond of seeing paul

GolDustin: and you can't go?

SDCole: i'm staying here

SDCole: we're rentmates

GolDustin: ok

SDCole: besides, i'm talking to you now

SDCole: and that's enough

GolDustin: andy, please

GolDustin: don't go there now

SDCole: sorry

SDCole: I just miss everyone

GolDustin: I know

GolDustin: but this won't help

GolDustin: just live your life

SDCole: I do

SDCole: or, I have

GolDustin: ?

SDCole: I'm dead, right?

GolDustin: only if you think you are

SDCole: ?

GolDustin: this is your life

GolDustin: we're here to live

GolDustin: and to help others live

GolDustin: it's what God wants

SDCole: yeah, but

GolDustin: ...

SDCole: who am I?

GolDustin: you are andy

GolDustin: remember that

SDCole: no I'm not

SDCole: I'm cole this week

GolDustin: wait

SDCole: and someone else next

SDCole: yeah?

GolDustin: that's only what other people see

GolDustin: what's important is what you see

GolDustin: the only person who can be you

GolDustin: is you

GolDustin: remember that

SDCole: ok... I guess

GolDustin: it's early yet for you

GolDustin: it took me months to get used to this

SDCole: months?

GolDustin: yeah

SDCole: wow

GolDustin: that's why I'm so calm now

GolDustin: I've done this for years

SDCole: don't you ever want to be yourself?

SDCole: take a week off?

GolDustin: sometimes

GolDustin: but I can't

GolDustin: and I shouldn't

SDCole: why not?

GolDustin: because our work is important

SDCole: that is?

GolDustin: to save Vince

GolDustin: and to help the WWE people

GolDustin: and to make the world better

SDCole: nothing major, just save the world

GolDustin: lol

GolDustin: basically

SDCole: don't you feel overwhelmed?

GolDustin: I would if I were alone

SDCole: you aren't??

GolDustin: well, you're here

SDCole: no, I mean, we're not?

GolDustin: nope

GolDustin: look at the crowd through your glasses sometime

GolDustin: we're everywhere

SDCole: And so are empty people

GolDustin: right

GolDustin: and each one needs our help

SDCole: why couldn't we do this while we were alive?

GolDustin: but we did

GolDustin: we just didn't know how people were

GolDustin: but if you were a nice guy

GolDustin: and you helped others

GolDustin: you made the world better

SDCole: it sounds so easy, but it's so much

GolDustin: I know

GolDustin: you'll get it eventually

SDCole: I hope so

SDCole: tazz wants the comp

SDCole: I'd better go

GolDustin: ok

GolDustin: bye

SDCole: bye

GolDustin: *kiss*

SDCole: thanks *blush*

SDCole has signed out.

*****

Saturday, September 6, 2003

04:45 PM

Tazz was still out getting some groceries when I got back from a PR session at Madison Square Garden. Traffic in New York was unbearable, but it was the last thing on my mind. I'm not even sure how much I tipped the cabbie to get here. All I could think of was seeing my co-workers again. My co-workers? My friends. My... family.

Yeah, my family. I guess they replace my family now. It wouldn't do me any good to see Mom and Dad again. They wouldn't recognize me or believe me. Maybe that's better that way.

I mean, we all have to die sometime, and that's what's happened. I'm alone. I'm glad my family still has each other, but... my parents, my sister, my grandfather... uncles, aunts, cousins... how are they handling it?

And why am I so calm? Why has nothing gone wrong yet? I know it's been a month, but I still can't understand why I'm used to this. Wait, am I?

Just yesterday I was telling Lindsay how I felt dead. But I'm alive. I'm conscious. I'm breathing. I'm in a life. But it's not mine. I'm not me. I won't be for the next 50 years.

How much longer before I accept this and wake up every Monday ready to take on my next lot in life? And what do I do when Vince dies, or converts? I'll have to be a bunch of people I don't know. That would certainly make things more difficult.

I don't know how much more I could take of this. At least I'm alone right now. Being around Paul... it always felt like I was working. Even a ghost needs time off, I guess. Heh.

I wonder how Kathleen's doing? I treated her so unfairly. She seemed ready to die all over again. Everything she had was stolen, and now I'm trying to tell her she's better off without it. No wonder she got mad.

Is Michael Cole thinking this or am I? And what is it like to be possessed? I can't imagine what's in his mind. Wait, I don't have to. I have access to it. If I wanted to, I could look up all his personal details. That would be fun.

But it would be pointless. The minute I do something wrong, I'll get transferred or faded... or I might be destroyed! What was Lindsay telling me about Sunny? That could've happened to me with John. Wow. So many things can go wrong.

When your body dies, and you're just a soul, your margin for error is so small. Maybe that's why we have assignments, work to do, all the time. Maybe that's why Recovery is so necessary. I can't imagine having to be perfect. What if I couldn't Recover? I'd probably break!

But I can't rely on that. I have to rely on myself. Well, myself and whoever I am. I guess each week I have to figure out the person's strength, and use it to make the world better. Michael's is that he is a voice people listen to. He's on TV. That makes him important... to some. But is there more?

I mean, I know I used being Taker the right way, but... I haven't done much else, have I? It's hard to find opportunity. What would Paul say right now? What would he think of me if...

I was snapped out of my train of thought by the phone ringing. I knew I could pick up -- something told me whoever called knew about our living arrangement. I hustled over and answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Gordo?"

"Tazz, is that you?"

"Yeah, 's me. Whazzup, Coleslaw?"

"Not much. I just got back from MSG. Anything I can do?"

"Yeah, could you check the answerin' machine, make sure we don't have any messages?"

"Sure." I walked over to the machine and pressed a button. I heard Vince's voice on the other end. I quickly held the phone to the speaker so Tazz could hear it too.

"Gentlemen, this is Vince. You need to come to Stamford tomorrow to discuss a recent turn of events on the RAW brand. It's pretty serious... I can't fully explain over the phone, but I need everyone involved with the production to be there. The meeting starts at 3 PM. Show up or expect repercussions. This is urgent. Thank you."

I put the phone back to my ear. "You get that?"

"Yeah... well, guess I'd better clear my calendar. We'll talk about this when I get in, ok?"

"Sure. Catch you then."

"See ya."

I hung up. Just in time. I'm meeting Vince himself... but it's not personal, and something tells me it's not good.

*****

Sunday, September 7, 2003, 03:10 PM

WWE Headquarters, Stamford, CT

I looked around the table. Tazz and I were joined by Paul Heyman, Dave Lagana, and Stephanie McMahon on our side. On the other side of the table were Jim Ross, Jerry Lawler, Triple H, Shane McMahon, and Brian Gerwitz. I expected Vince to walk in at any moment to begin the conversation. He did, but he brought Linda with him.

A murmur went around the table. If Linda was involved, this was a serious issue. Dave leaned over to me and whispered, "I thought this was about regular TV... why's Linda here?" I couldn't answer. I didn't know.

Vince took his place aloof from the table. Linda placed a series of folders in front of her. I tried to read her expression, but couldn't get any such luck. She had the same stony visage that she used on television. Vince, on the other hand, was bent over, his tie almost into his pants pocket, his hands clenched together in front of him. Whatever had happened, it had taken a large toll on both people.

"I want to thank you all for coming here on such short notice," she began. There was an audible crack in her voice, as if she had just finished a very stressful period. Triple H coughed in an attempt to break the silence. It didn't work. Linda paused, then continued.

"As of right now, our plans for the next few events are in a crisis. Our main event for Unforgiven is up in the air due to events of the past few weeks. The results of SummerSlam, as altered as they were, did damage to the long-term success of the RAW brand. The ideas put forth were not the problem; instead, it was the continual use of creative control clauses by members of the community that led to a lack of acceptance by our fanbase. Unfortunately, that problem has manifested itself into an even worse situation.

Yesterday at 3:45 PM, I received a phone call from an agent representing Goldberg. He informed us that the continual decisions of the management to attempt to remove him from the main event scene, coupled with a lack of co-operation shown by his primary opponents, led him to become unsettled in his current role. As a result, it was the inevitable and necessary decision of the management of World Wrestling Entertainment to offer him a full and unconditional release from the company, which he has accepted."

The SmackDown! side gasped. Stephanie stared at her fiance, who showed no outward emotion. Jim Ross held his head in his hands and seemed deflated by the announcement. I turned to Tazz so he could see my stare of disbelief. HHH refused to put over Goldberg. I get it now. And now he's quit. I don't know who is worse.

"Because of this turn of events, we no longer have a viable main event for Unforgiven. However, one thing is clear. There is enough blame to go around in this situation. In retrospect, decisions made by the writing team leading up to SummerSlam contributed to an appearance of a weak challenger. This appearance, then, became reality when the title did not change hands. As soon as it became clear it was time to move on, the next step was refused. At every step of the way, plans that were in the best interest of the company were either overruled or derailed. I do not wish for this to happen again.

I have called people from both brands here to discuss a possible solution for the current dilemma. Right now, I am open to any ideas. However, only a great idea will be accepted. It is necessary to provide for the fans first and foremost. To that end, we must provide the most acceptable solution for them. Try to think like the fans. Try to understand the fans. I feel a lot of us have been away for so long we don't have the instinct to represent their needs. But let's do our best anyway."

Lost sight of the fans? Us? But I am a fan. First and foremost, we're all fans, aren't we? I looked around at the table. Twelve of us were in the room. Five had a personal stake in the business. Four of us were actors. Three of us were stagehands. None of us could truly be called a fan. We had all missed the mark.

"Well, if I may suggest something," said HHH. "Perhaps if you put me and Flair in a tag match at Unforgiven. It would get us on the card, and we'd get to give the fans a clean win without the title changing hands."

I waited. No one said anything. I couldn't see protest or agreement in anyone's eyes. I looked closely into Brian's eyes. He was outwardly nodding furiously in agreement. I checked with Ross. He didn't make eye contact. He seemed to think of himself as just a talent. Either that, or he's afraid.

"Okay, I think that might work," Vince said from the back. "Now, as for the opponents, we need two people who--"

"Wait, Vince. I thought of something."

The table looked at me. I barely had the words out of my mouth when I realized what I was about to say and why I was about to say it. Deep down, it was to get the belt off the man I had hated to see win -- when I was Andy. But as Michael Cole, my words carried more weight. I was in a position to make it happen -- and I was all too eager to jump on it. It scared me that power went to my head so fast.

"Yes, Michael? What is it?"

"Well... sir... it's just that it's a Pay-Per-View event, and the title needs to be defended. We are having all the other titles on the line, and it just wouldn't do if the centerpiece of RAW, on a RAW event, was unavailable. Besides, with HHH anticipating his time off soon, shouldn't we attempt to pump the belt while we still can?"

A long, heavy pause followed. I swallowed. I've overstepped my bounds, haven't I? I turned to Paul, hoping for a re-affirmation. He simply looked ahead at Vince and Linda. Why is he hanging me out to dry?

"Michael, it's all well and good to say, but who do we have that's on the level of HHH and can fill in on such short notice? I mean, Chris Benoit is already assigned a match, as is the Rock."

"Well, sir... we could have someone go twice."

"Twice? I'd better be winning," scoffed HHH. He looked at Gerwitz with almost an overbearing glance, as if to say, 'I am winning, right?' Gerwitz simply waited for Vince's word. Vince didn't speak next, though; Linda did.

"Well, I can't say for certain that it would be in the company's best interest for you to retain, even against an opponent pulling double duty."

"Excuse me? I am the only credible man on RAW. You've seen what people like Scott and Kevin were able to do with me -- nothing. There's no one left who the people buy as a credible champion outside of maybe Shawn."

There's a good reason for that, I thought, somehow hoping my brain waves would pierce through the gold plating of the belt on his shoulder and reach his heart. Triple H sat in a confident, relaxed position, awaiting Linda's realization of his wisdom.

"Well, maybe we could create one. Besides, you will be gone for a week or two in October. If that's not a reason to drop the title, what is?"

JR stepped in. "Linda, I don't want to insult anyone around here, but I think you should consider the source before you make a decision. Triple H here -- he's been in the WWE for eight, nine years now, and he's been in wrestling for much longer. He has the seniority and the experience to make the idea work."

I turned to Tazz and whispered, "Was that about me?"

"I think so," Tazz replied, almost sadly. He then spoke up. "Well, if it's a matter of being in the wrestling business, I think I can speak up a little here. Fact is, Cole's idea has a little merit. I'm not saying the title should change hands or whatever, but we certainly should give someone an opportunity to become a star. Hey, it's a free shot -- we're not askin' them to draw, right?"

"Wait, wait, wait..." Lawler spoke next. "Are you honestly saying that we base the entire Unforgiven around Triple H? Are we going to plug in an opponent or not? I mean... it's the World Title match, and they're the main event. Maybe we should, you know, build a story."

Linda raised her hand for calm. "I have an idea. What we need is to return the action to the fans, right? Well, the easiest way to do that would be to give them a say in how to build this up. What better way than to have wwe.com do a fan poll to determine the next challenger for the World Heavyweight Title?"

"Brilliant, boss!" I said. Everyone turned to me. "Er... I mean... good idea."

"No, no, it's not that," Heyman said. I listened carefully, certain every sentence would have a double meaning. "It's that JR might have a point. I mean, you are one of the newest people to the business of those among us. Your enthusiasm is admirable, and I think it's a good idea too, but... let me handle this, please."

"Why? Am I... what?"

"I've been a manager and a promoter, Michael. Trust me. It's my job to be persuasive."

It took every effort I had not to smile at the second, more important meaning of his last thought. Yes it is, Paul. And Vince is right there, so let's get to persuading.

"Okay... I'll play along for now," said HHH. "But how do you expect anyone to believe the belt might change hands? I mean, I gotta provide some semblance of being vulnerable and all."

Paul thought. "Well, it's not necessary to base this around the title, I think. Remember that for Vengeance, the main event was Brock Lesnar and Kurt Angle and the Big Show, but we hyped Zach Gowen's first official singles match as our big draw. We can do the same here."

"But that tanked," I said out of habit. I'd seen the numbers. Vince and Zach were the worst draw up top since Sid. But had I just scuttled my own idea?

"It tanked because Zach Gowen was an unknown quantity. Thing is, we have a known quantity to hype Unforgiven around -- The Rock making a quick return to the ring. He and Kane could sell easily. Can the Hollywood hero slay the ultimate supervillain? There's your moneymaker."

Because of Zach? Why because of Z... oh, I guess telling Vince he can't draw is a bad idea. I'm glad he's doing the talking.

HHH leaned forward. "Okay, I'll bite. But do we do a straight-up poll, or do we have a winner?"

"Well, it's probably best if we just have a winner. I mean, I know I don't want to be, say, Hurricane or Goldust and find myself in the main event after planning to take most of the card off."

"True enough, Jerry, but... I dunno... Shane, what do you think?"

The eyes of the room turned to the heir apparent of the empire. He waited in thought for what seemed like much longer than a minute. When he did speak, every word seemed measured, as if he was trying to convince everyone that he was agreeing while putting in his opinion.

"I think if we're going to do it this way, we have to be careful how we handle the buildup. We can't give anything away. The hardest thing to do would be to treat five guys -- to use a number -- to treat five guys as equals. Plus, if we don't read the crowd correctly, the poll will look rigged. I think we shouldn't decide the winner for a while. Certainly we can announce the poll tomorrow, but it's best to wait."

"So how do we book the remaining RAWs if we're unsure who to give the shot to?"

"Well, Mom, what I think we can do... or, what I'd do... is keep the main events we have right now, and build each person up in their individual storylines as before. Then, the next week -- the last one -- hmmm..."

"I've got it," said Lagana. "We could have a big ten-man tag. All five challengers against HHH and whoever is appropriate. Heck, Ric Flair can be thrown in if necessary. I think it'll work."

"Well, if it will work, I need to know right now who the people are who will be in the poll," Gerwitz chimed in. "And if the Rock's in there, he's going to win. How do we handle that?"

"Simple. I beat him."

"Now, wait, HHH, it's not that simple," Paul interjected, seemingly trying to keep his cool. "The fact is, the Rock would be expected to beat you. But Brian's right -- if the Rock wins, he's an even less available champion than you are. I don't know how to get around that."

"Do we have to decide this now?" I asked. "I mean, if, as Shane said, we're going to wait until we have a clear winner, can't we delay worrying about how to handle the winner until we know who it is?"

"Michael has a point. Gentlemen, it--"

"Mom!"

"Sorry. Lady and gentlemen, it would be in our best interest to let this play. Two weeks may not seem like a long time in the wrestling world because of the lack of shows, but we have 14 days to meet and decide. Brian, I want you and the rest of the RAW team to work things out. Give me five names to announce on RAW."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Okay, I think we may be able to salvage this yet. If you have any other thoughts, feel free to discuss them with me sometime during the day. Thank you."

I was surprised at how much Linda had taken over the meeting. I knew she was CEO and technically the voice of the company, but I thought that was a figurehead. Had Vince gone soft?

As I walked over to Paul to talk about expanding the idea, I saw HHH talking to -- well, lecturing to -- Brian and Shane about ideas. He seemed to fill the room with his presence, both literally and figuratively. He demanded attention, and he usually got it.

Stephanie had crossed the table to perch herself on HHH's arm. I thought back to how just a couple weeks ago it was Kathleen there, or Lindsay, or someone else. Why was she usually being inhabited? Was this a plan to get to Vince through the one person who could get him to listen?

Just then, JR came up to me. "Michael, can we talk?"

We stepped outside. "Look, Michael, I don't know how I sounded in there, but I'm not trying to put you down. I--"

"JR, it's not that. Truth is, I was nervous in there. I mean, I see things from the SmackDown! side, and I don't see any ego being starved or force-fed over there. You have Undertaker working with Eddie Guerrero, Hogan putting Rhyno over... it seems like everyone's cooperating, which isn't what I got from being in RAW on Monday."

"Michael, I don't know what you saw, but there's a lot of chaos. HHH is -- well, he's really put a hit on morale. The Rock is not happy with being put in nothing matches. He can stay over as ever, but he's really considering defecting to Hollywood full-time. We really hope it doesn't come to that."

"Yeah, it would be a huge loss... I mean, he's one of the icons of the WWE, along with Austin and... well, some guy in a cowboy hat."

JR smiled. "You think I'm an icon?"

"Yes, I do. I want to tell you that right now. There's been some stuff going around that I want to overtake you, push you out the door. It's all lies. I respect you. We're not rivals -- we're friends. Right?"

JR seemed to try to force his right side into a pleasant demeanor. He lowered his voice as tears seemed to fill his eyes. "I'm no fool, Michael. I'm old and fallin' apart. Me and King -- we're not the now. We're the past. I'm just trying to get to the point where I can retire with dignity. I know my time's come and gone. That's why Coach is getting the time. I just hope he doesn't get raked over like you did."

I paused. "Jim... Mr. Ross... everyone has to take their lumps. There's only one Gordon Solie, and there's only one Gorilla Monsoon. There's only gonna be one Good Ol' JR. The fans will accept that. I've accepted it. I'm going to be my own guy, and I want you to be your own man. And that man is the best damn announcer in the WWE today."

Ross simply looked at me. "Thanks. I appreciate that."

Just then, Paul opened the door. "Cole, JR... we need your advice on the poll."

I stepped aside and let the master in the hat lead the way.

*****

12:15 AM

It was late when I got back to Tazz's place. This has been fun, but it ends tomorrow. Tomorrow I'm back to being a normal guy. That is, if there is such a thing as a normal guy.

Tazz was ready to head upstairs before we prepared for our flight to Alabama. As he did so, I felt the need to have a conversation.

"Hey, T, I was just thinking."

"If you was just thinkin, you're gonna hurt yourself."

"Very funny. What do you think it must've been like for JR when he got the palsy?"

"Whaddya mean?"

"I mean, here's a guy who makes his living talking, right? And he has to go through an extended period of time being unable to say anything to anyone. What do you think that would be like?"

"Not talkin? Geez, Cole, that would be really hard. I mean, not just job-wise, though there I'd get understanding. I mean, not talkin' to anyone?"

"Yeah. Not being able to communicate, really."

"That would suck royally, man. Stuck in your own world, unable to find a friend to confide in... I'd have to write shit down to keep from losin' it, you know? Well, what would you do?"

"Me? I guess I'd have to work on mimicry."

"Ha! You a mime! That's a good one!" Tazz proceeded to do the old stuck-in-a-box routine, tossing in Hulk Hogan poses as he did so.

"You know, a mute wrestler would be an interesting concept. Someone who didn't speak a word, just went out and kicked ass."

"Nah... even Kane had to talk. A guy with no mic skills... he'd never get past the midcard."

"I suppose. Oh well. You know, talking to JR made me realize how lucky we are, man."

"How so?"

"Well, I've heard the comments -- I've heard people call you a sellout, and call me a... well, it's not nice or true... but when you think about it, we're young and set. We have a steady job ready for us, and it'll keep us for life, you know? Just invest wisely, live like we do..."

"Yeah, I guess, Gordo."

"Why do you keep calling me that? I'm not Soley."

"Ya might be someday. Ya might be."

As I pulled out the converter bed, I thought about this. Why couldn't Michael Cole be the next big name? Isn't he being set up along those lines? Solie, Monsoon, Ross, Cole? But the difference is, he has no credibility. Who am I kidding? Styles or Tenay is the next JR. Not me.

But why be the next JR? Why be the next Solie? Why not just be me? Wait... why not just let Cole be Cole? Damn, it's been so much fun I've forgotten it's almost over.

I went to sleep that night imagining whose voice would be coming out of my mouth next.

*****

Monday, September 8, 2003, 07:00 AM

Jacksonville, FL

The alarm went off. I slowly rolled over and attempted to hit the snooze button, but I couldn't find it. The darned thing was on the other side of the table. Great. Now I have to get up.

I slowly staggered out of bed. The first thing I noticed was that whoever I was slept au naturel. As soon as it registered with me, I dove back under the covers and scrambled to find a towel. Fortunately, there was one lying by the bed. I grabbed it, slid out of bed, and slipped it on.

As I walked over to the bathroom to wash up, I heard a voice behind me talk to me. The voice wasn't familiar, and when I turned around I couldn't see the face of the person who spoke, but what caught me was how it was said. I couldn't understand a single word of it at first.

I asked him to repeat it, but found the words coming out of my mouth to be equally gibberish to my mind. Is this a prank? Am I dreaming? When the voice repeated his question, I found myself suddenly able to understand what was said -- even though these were words I had never heard before. I answered his question, again only knowing what I said because I thought it.

I rounded the corner and slipped into the bathroom, keeping the lights off until the door was completely shut. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I have a feeling when I flip on this switch, I'm not going to be happy with what I see. So far I've had a conversation I couldn't repeat but which I understood completely. The only thing I can think of is if I and my roommate speak some sort of code -- a mangled English that I'm relying on the memory banks of this person to translate for me. Well, I'll soon find out.

I turned on the light and opened my eyes as much as I could. As I saw in the reflection, I couldn't possibly open them as much as I was accustomed to. But more was revealed to me. I saw the matted-down black hair and the facial hair I should have expected. I grinned and saw the evil grin come back to me. More than that, though, my mind and my being both clicked in.

When I spoke to Tazz about being mute, I was figuring it as a hypothetical. I always thought that, while on this job, I would have the capability to talk to Paul at the very least. But here I was, in Week 6, and already I realized that I wouldn't be able to do this. I had no idea how to proceed with my mission.

The face was Oriental. The code we spoke was Japanese. The man I saw was Yoshihiro Tajiri.

[pgi86]

Awesome!!!!The Battle For Vince`s Soul is back baby!!!!Man,I missed it the last time.I mean,i found this diary just as it was ending so what i did was to copy all the chapters and make them one big .doc file!!I still have the that file but i don`t have the time to read it these days (i`ve reached chapter 32 ).Man,but i love it till here!!I`m really glad to see there are comments by the author this time around.It`s awesome.I love it!!Definately the best diary i`ve ever seen.Btw,till now my favourtie storyline has been the eddie guerrero rise to stardom.Awesome!!!Let me admit something here.This diary is the thing that introduced me to El Santo (which i wanna thank dukes for).Right now,I have so much respect for El Santo.Man,I can`t believe i had never heard about the guy.So,thanks for the great read dukes!!You`re DA man!!Keep it coming

[The Third Dukes]

Yeah, yeah, it's been two weeks, quit your bitchin'.

This is probably the week I most regretted, as evidenced by the fact that I ended it almost immediately. You see, I just didn't have the chops to do an entire week without dialogue -- which, as you've figured out by now, is absolutely carrying this diary. So instead, I new I had to improvise. Enter a subplot.

Kathleen's behavior now that her "secret" was out was more and more erratic. She became manipulable, flighty, moody, and so forth... in short, the perfect character to lose it and an easy choice to remove, even before Renotude started rooting for her to be killed off. Oh yeah, did I mention I had a fan who basically wanted her dead?

Anyway, this chapter is the start of her bizarre behavior, as she (Shannon Moore) takes her personal frustration out on Andy (Tajiri), a HUGE no-no. That's pretty much the theme of this week. Like I said, it was a short week.

During this time, oldskool posted a reply that still resonates with how much of a different diary this was...

....i just realized that you're using EWR.

i can't believe it, this story has sucked me in so much that i completely forgot that this was a diary and not an actual novel of some kind...

Yup. These were my readers.

*****

Chapter 19

Lost in Translation

Monday, September 8, 08:04 AM

Jacksonville, FL

We all were in the lobby. I attempted to find a seat near the center "aisle" of wrestlers so that I could work with Paul almost immediately. My gut instinct told me I was going to be at a disadvantage this week, and I needed to know if I should follow certain instructions. Well, if I could understand his instructions, anyway.

As I sat and waited, I let my ears and mind wander to other conversations. Next to me, Rey Misterio and Brian Kendrick were talking to each other. I figured it was something I could listen to, but when I tried, I found I was only able to get the occasional word. What I was hearing was definitely English, but at the same time, it sounded foreign.

In another location, Shannon Moore was next to Matt Hardy. I tried to read lips, but found myself equally frustrated by my efforts. What I could tell, though, was that Shannon was trying to tell Matt something, and Matt was nonchalantly refusing to believe it. Or maybe he was refusing to do a certain task. Or... what is he saying, anyway? I know Matt has a strong accent, but this is weird.

I thought back to just the previous night in Brooklyn. Tazz and I -- okay, Tazz and Cole -- were discussing what it would be like to be unable to talk. I was thinking in terms of not having a voice at all. But here I was, unable to talk to virtually everyone, and my voice was just fine. I felt like a stranger in a strange land.

Wait a second... I can hear some words. When Rey and Brian were talking, I could make out things like "and", "the", "rope", "hit", and so on. How can that be? Does he really know English? No, because I couldn't follow the whole thing. Wait... maybe he kinda knows it. I'd better stop thinking about this; it's giving me a headache. I'm going to have enough trouble as it is.

In the front, Stephanie got everyone's attention. She began to explain... well, something. I couldn't figure it out, but I heard a bunch of city names in there. I was guessing she was going over the itinerary. I heard numbers, too. I couldn't put it all together, though, because every sentence seemed to have a key word that I couldn't quite understand. If it was a schedule, then I could easily follow it. I'd just stay with Paul until the bell rings.

Paul took the announcements and seemed to be going over the order of the matches for that night. At least, I could tell that much from how the names were paired up. If I could follow things correctly, I was booked against Matt Hardy in Match #3 of the night. It sounded like I was given a bit of time, and that I was to lose -- at any rate, Matt was told which was which. During the question and answer session, Shannon asked for what seemed like a personal favor that Paul shook his head over. After a few minutes, we were told to head to the cars for the six-hour ride to Columbus, GA, for the show.

I grabbed my things and waited by Paul's car. I looked around nervously as other people walked by to the van assignments. The first person to approach the car was Chavo Guerrero, smiling and ready as he tossed his bags into the trunk. He waved to me and began to speak. I couldn't pick up more than a few words of it, and I merely shook my head in reply. Surprisingly, I knew what was said next. "You ok?"

I responded, trying to explain the situation, but Japanese came out of my mouth instead of English. Chavo began to signal for me to calm down, then brushed it off as if to tell me to forget about it. He hopped into the front seat of the car as I continued to wait. Great. I actually have to make an effort to talk. Wait... can I...?

Paul Heyman finally emerged next with Shannon Moore. Shannon seemed to be keeping to himself, not trying to interact more than necessary. Paul went to the front seat and said something to Chavo, who got out and moved to the back. Shannon entered the front seat and buckled up. With that, Paul turned to me and asked me something.

I tried to ask him to put his glasses on, but I was getting nowhere. Paul gave me the same "stop" signal Chavo had, then spoke slowly. "Tajiri-san, in English, please. What is it?"

I began to think of the right words, but they weren't coming to me. I shook my head to him sadly. Then, a thought occurred to me. I began by pointing to him, then slapping my pocket. I motioned as thought putting the glasses on, then formed glasses with my hands around my eyes. I finished by pointing at myself.

Paul pointed back and forth between us and at the car. I nodded enthusiatically. Paul got out his glasses and looked at me. He motioned to the car and indicated I should get in. I worked my way around and climbed in next to Chavo. I smiled a wide smile as Paul got in the driver's seat and started the car.

*****

03:03 PM

Columbus, GA

Andy--

You can speak and read some English. I will try to use easy words so that we can talk. I know you will be mad this week, but I want you to know I will help you. I can't speak Japanese, but Tajiri and I can talk to each other just fine. Your motions were good enough for me to get your message.

Kathleen is Shannon Moore this week. She is still angry at you. Shannon will be with Matt Hardy tonight. I want you to take care of her out there. Matt is okay with Tajiri's style, but I don't think Kathleen will get it. Please be careful.

Greg is Chavo Guerrero. Chavo is going to be back on TV this week, and he is very happy. The arm is not at full power yet, but it is good enough for him to be in the ring. It is a good thing that he will not have a match yet, but we will see how it goes.

You are facing Matt Hardy, as you know. He will win the match because of Shannon. I told Kathleen not to hurt you or let her feelings get in the way, but I don't know if she can. Be ready if she does something too hard.

Thank you for trying. If you can't do this very well, see me and I will get you out. Please try.

Paul

*****

08:44 PM

The web browser loaded up, and out came Matt Hardy first. Shannon was by his side, with both men flashing the V.1 symbol. I waited on the outside, giving both men plenty of room to enter and play to the crowd. As Matt jumped off the turnbuckle, I snuck back in and paused behind him. He turned around and ran straight into a big chop to the head. Shannon bailed out as the bell rang.

I continued my flurry, slapping away at Matt's flesh as hard as I could. I sent him flying to the opposite corner and charged in, hitting a spinkick as a I did so. Matt staggered out of the corner, so I decided to return to an old spot and bit him in the pants. Matt hopped around in pain, complaining to the ref, while I imitated his hopping around. The laughter from the crowd was satisfactorily loud.

Matt saw me and clubbed me down from behind. He continued adding the stomps to my back as I headed for the safety of the ropes. The referee told Matt off, while Shannon came over. I braced myself for what was next. He lunged back and swung mightily. CRACK! I bounced off the bottom rope and instinctively grabbed my eye, trying to prevent any swelling. As I looked to the outside, Shannon was holding his hand.

Matt continued the onslaught with a German suplex for two. He caught me off the ropes with the Side Effect for another two. After a series of punches, he sent me over the top rope, where Shannon was waiting. He grabbed me and, with what seemed to be all his might, chucked me into the steps on the outside. I wanted to tell him to stop, but I couldn't find the words in my state, and Shannon just stared at me when I shouted in Japanese for him to take it easy.

Matt came out and tossed me back in, then yelled something to Shannon as he returned. Inside the ring, I regained my senses and kicked out at two before taking a leghold. I was right next to the ropes and got out as soon as I could. Matt continued to stomp on the leg as I pulled myself up. Shannon got onto the apron while Matt yelled at the ref. Oh no... Shannon grabbed my hair and jumped down, leaving my throat feeling like it had been crushed. I bounced back into Matt, who suplexed me for two, then returned to kicking the leg around.

After a few minutes of the torture, Matt went up top and yodelled to the crowd. I knew this was the cue, so I waited until he was airborne and rolled aside. The crowd began to come alive as I chopped Matt to the corner and hit him with a flurry of karate strikes that left him dazed. I climbed over top of him and hooked the Tarantula, waiting for the referee to tap my leg so I would break it. Before I got there, though, Shannon came over and yanked me out of the hold, nearly dropping me headfirst onto the mats below.

As the ref dealt with Shannon and Matt recovered, I regained my feet. Hidden under the ring near this post was a tiny baggie of colored water. I grabbed it and held my hands to my mouth. Shannon came over to toss me back in, but as he turned me to face him, I spewed the contents of the baggie right into his face. Shannon recoiled in horror at first, allowing me to sneak into the ring before he returned to being angry rather than blinded.

I climbed back in and slammed Matt down, then hit a standing moonsault on him for two. I went to whip him into the ropes, but he reversed. I flipped at the ropes and flipped back, pasting him with a back elbow. As he staggered to his feet, I gave the pose and set my foot at the ready. He turned around, and I swung at him with a superkick. Matt ducked, and the referee got nailed with it.

Matt went for a Twist of Fate, but mid-holler, I shoved him off and slapped him. He spun around to his knees, and the crowd began to buzz. I whirled my foot at him, making enough contact to register with him that he'd been hit. I made sure to find his back rather than his neck or head. With Matt down, I bowed repeatedly to the crowd. As I turned to the fourth corner, I saw Shannon in the ring, holding a chair. He swung at me.

*****

11:44 PM

I was reclining in the front seat of the car with an ice pack over my head. My eye had swollen up, and I had blacked out from the chair to the head that was the finish. Chavo and Shannon were in the back, staring at each other. Neither said a word.

We arrived in Birmingham much later, due to traffic and Paul getting gas. I slowly got out of the car and stared through my good eye at Shannon. He said nothing to me as he tried to shake some feeling back into his hand. Chavo came up to me and patted me on the back. "Get some rest," he said. I bowed and struggled to reply, "Thank you," before getting my bags.

Paul stopped me at the elevator. "Andy, I'm sorry," he said. "Kathleen -- I don't know. I will talk to her. What she did was wrong. Do you hear me?"

I nodded.

"Okay. Try to sleep. We need you tomorrow. Good night."

The door opened. I climbed in and searched out the right button with my one good eye. If only I could tell her how sorry I am. If only I could say the right words to undo this pain she has. If only I could let her know that this was all a misunderstanding, that I had her best interest in mind, and that I don't want her to be mad.

The one week I need to talk things over is the one week I won't be able to talk to her at all.

*****

Tuesday, September 9, 2003, 10:15 AM

Birmingham, AL

Oh, my head. I hope I'll be able to go tonight. I was due to see the doctor later in the day and get medical clearance, if possible, for tonight. The pain in my eye was dissipating, as was the swelling, but a noticeable mark remained from Kathleen's enthusiasm. I entered the auditorium with an ice pack on my head, so that I could keep from focusing on the throbbing.

Brian Kendrick sat down next to me. He patted me on the shoulder and tried to make me feel better, somehow forgetting that I didn't understand fast English. I used as much non-verbal communication to indicate that now was a bad time as possible, and eventually he sat down elsewhere. I needed the time off.

Matt Hardy, Shannon Moore, and Paul Heyman all entered together. Shannon was subdued, almost a zombie, compared to everyone else. Paul walked businesslike to the front, while Matt was lecturing Shannon. Every once in a while Shannon would nod his head, almost forced, before continuing to listen. Why did I have to be incapable of understanding English?

The Guerreros sat down next to me. Eddie began a conversation with me in Japanese, which I appreciated. Although he struggled with a few words along the way, and often needed things repeated, we seemed to have less trouble overcoming the language barrier. I did everything I could to keep Eddie involved in the conversation, fully appreciating his difficulties with a language not only tertiary to him, but sporadically used. The gist of the conversation was that I shouldn't take last night personally and to remember to be professional. I acknowledged and agreed, adding cryptically that last night was about personal issues.

Strangely, Eddie didn't ask what they were, especially since Tajiri and Moore had no common ground and would have an almost impossible time talking to each other.

Besides which, the general sounds from the front of the stage and from Stephanie indicated the tape was cued up and ready to begin.

*****

- The SmarK RAW Rant for Sep. 08 / 03

- Live from Huntsville, AL

- Your hosts are Jim Ross and Jerry Lawler, with Jonathan Coachman handling ringside interviews.

- RNN: Randy Orton welcomes out co-GM Eric Bischoff with much fanfare and general ass-kissing. The "OrTron 250" shows highlights of Evolution in action, which ends with HHH standing tall above the rest. Yup. Bischoff then drops the bombshell: Goldberg failed to show up for events over the weekend and was fired post-haste from RAW. By FedEx, of course. So now fans can go to WWE.com and vote for HHH's challenger from among six worthy competitors. He says the winner will face HHH at Unforgiven, even if he has to pull double duty to do it. Steve Austin crashes the proceedings, because it wouldn't be a 20-minute yakfest without him. He says "What?" a lot and complains about Bischoff circumventing him over Goldberg. He also says Vince won't bring him back, meaning Goldberg may be gone for good. Darn. Austin re-iterates he's still the referee at Unforgiven, and he won't let anything get in the way. Except maybe a pair of cans on that girl in the front row. His words, not mine. Beer is drunk, commercials and sent to.

- Well. It looks like ol' Goldie finally crossed the line, doesn't it? I can't say as I'm surprised here, since the experiment was clearly failing and he was just being set up to eat the Pedigree anyway. The big question is, which of the guys (and, for the record, it's Rock, Booker T, Goldust, Scott Steiner, Hurricane, and Benoit) gets the vote. I mean, I know Rock is the people's favorite, but with his publicity tour for the Rundown coming up soon, he can't be champion. So that leaves three questions: who do you nominate instead; how do you bait-and-switch the fans; and will the NOSE OF DOOM allow the guy any offense at all? Ponder.

- Chris Nowinski and Rodney Mack v. Maven and Rob Conway. This is a #1 contenders match for Unforgiven, though what either team has done to earn such a distinction is unknown. Further, given who has the heat with whom, the outcome of this match is less than a mystery. At any rate, Nowinski and Maven start and do some very generic Tough Enough stuff. Conway in, and a dropkick and Northern Lights suplex send Nowinski bailing. Mack tries his luck, but Maven and Conway do a neato dropkick/missile dropkick combo on him for two. Theodore Long is his usual self, and the distraction makes Conway face-in-peril. Mack punches Conway down for two. Nowinski with a German suplex and a neckbreaker for two. Mack's Blackout is reversed to a judo throw and a shoulder tackle, hot tag Maven. Armdrags and dropkicks abound, but Nowinski and Mack hit a Doomsday Shouldertackle for two. Heel miscommunication leads to a moonsault from Maven, but Rene Dupree appears and distracts the ref, allowing Sylvan Grenier to punk Maven with the flag for the Nowinski pin at 7:10. Not that I'm saying any of these six guys are ready for prime time yet, but as OVW matches go, I've seen worse. **

- Maven and Conway throw a fit for Jonathan Coachman and challenge the frogs at Unforgiven. Well, that's two more matches already. I like this pace. They introduce their tag name: New Blood. Okay, okay, WCW sucked, WE GET IT ALREADY!

- Handicap match: Big Slow v. Tommy Dreamer and Spike Dudley. The point of this match is to highlight the Unforgiven showdown and to try to establish Show as being "twice the man Benoit is", so he's taking on two guys. High concept, I know. Speaking of the Wolverine, he's on commentary here, basically saying that, yeah, that's two people, but Christian was an Intercontinental Champion on several occasions, and these guys could only win a meaningless Hardcore title. Oh, TAG. If it sounds like I'm avoiding the match, there's a reason: Show finishes off the jobbers with the usual at 3:44. *

- Backstage, Stacy Keibler is bound and gagged, so Hurricane comes in to free her. but IT'S A TRAP!, as Lance Storm is waiting to drop an empty bookshelf on Hurricane. This is so cheesy it just might work.

- Ric Flair v. Scott Steiner. Stacy is noticeably absent due to the previous segment. CONTINUITY~! is a good thing, you know. Flair blitzes Steiner to start, but he no-sells everything outside of the chops. Overhead suplexes (the only kind he knows) follow. Elbowdrop gets one before the push-ups. Steiner is actually getting over. Frightening, I know. Flair clips him to take over. Kneedrop gets two. Figure-four is completely no-sold (screw you too, Steiner), and Poppa Pump mugs Flair in the corner. Steiner Flatliner finishes the slaughter at 5:17. Steiner continues the assault, yelling about HHH the whole time. Realistically, Steiner was the weakest of the six names on the board in terms of credibility, so we'll see if this goes a way toward making him a star again. Flair bumped for ten, of course, but these two guys just aren't what they used to be ten years ago. *1/4

- The Cast of Rent joins us in the ring for an interview. General playa hatin' ensues. The Dudley Boyz object to some claims and a brawl erupts, ending in D-Von being put through a table. The beating continues as Trish runs in to even the odds, and the Usual Idiots pull everyone apart as we take a break.

- When we come back, the situation has turned into...

- Trish Stratus v. Jazz. No complaints here. Jazz opens the fun with a set of punches and a roundhouse kick for two as all five men on the outside cheer on. Stratus reverses a whip and hits a rana for two. Jazz recovers and works the leg, building to a single leg crab and STF. Trish makes the ropes. Jazz to the top, but Bubba Ray "crotches" her (which serves only to make her lose her balance) and Trish hits the Stratusphere for two. Nowinski pulls Bubba out of the way and tosses him into the STEEL steps as Trish hits the Dudley Dog for two. Bubba Bomb gets two, as the announcers note that maybe some influence is showing. Really? As if to prove their point, Jazz tries for a Blackout in a whip reversal, but Trish elbows out. Jazz tries to toss Trish out, but she slides back in underneath and baseball slides Long into the rail. Cross-corner whip bumps the ref, and all heck breaks loose. Double Arm DDT on Trish, 3D on Jazz, and everyone's down. Long throws Jazz on top, but Molly Holly appears on the top rope, Molly-Go-Rounds Long, and reverses the pin for the three at 8:01. Total ECW booking, but there was a good match involved and the crowd was red hot throughout. **3/4 A giant brawl erupts and an eight-person tag is imminent. No problems here.

- His Rockiness does a promo on Kane, promising to make him burn in hell for hurting him. He also declares that he will win the World Title.

- Austin announces a huge ten-man tag for next week, with the five contenders (sans Rocky) facing Evolution, Lance Storm, and Big Show as the main event. If they do this right, this could easily be milked for half an hour.

- Main event: HHH and Randy Orton v. Booker T and Goldust. HUGE brawl to start, as Trips and Booker visit the crowd while Goldust tries for a Curtain Call on Orton, but spazzes out and can't finish the hold. Now that's how you use it. Orton punches Goldust down and goes up top, but Booker re-appears and crotches him, allowing Goldust to do a Shattered Dreams variant with a dropkick. Yes, a Rhodes family member did a dropkick. HHH in with a low blow from behind to give Orton two. Hell of a low blow. RKO is blocked, and Goldust with a sliding punch for two. Booker in, and Orton bails, so Booker delivers the BLACK GUY OUTTA CONTROL no-hands plancha onto both team members. Back in, it gets two. Blind charge misses, HHH enters and USES THE KNEE~! and Booker is YOUR brotha-in-peril. Where is Theodore Long when you need him? Facebuster gets two. Orton with Play of the Day for two. He goes up top (?), but Booker slams him off... and HHH cuts off the tag. No, really. Honest. MAIN EVENT SPINEBUSTER gets two. Sleeper is blocked, and Booker walks the ropes for two to counter. Orton back in, and a clothesline and elbowdrop get two. Running clotheslines, but Booker catches the third one with the Bookend, hot tag Goldust. Flip Flop and Fly gets two. Curtain Call for real, but HHH saves and the match breaks down. Ric Flair gets involved and pops Booker with the belt, causing him to stumble back into KICK WHAM PEDIGREE for the pin (duh) at 11:45. Given how WrestleMania's buildup went, I hold out hope, but not much. Match was fine until the funny ending. *** Evolution continue the pounding until Steiner and Benoit turn the tide, but Booker is none too appreciative and a massive title contender staredown ends the show.

The Bottom Line:

Well, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Or something. I don't think they'd put HHH/Rock on with such short notice, but they've done dumber. The only question is, whose gain is Goldberg's loss? I haven't seen the poll, but if they don't rig it, it'll be interesting to see the results.

That said, I can see all five guys voting for someone else to do the job.

*****

The doctor was busy talking to Paul after the physical. I couldn't make out what they said. I held my breath. The ringing in my ears was gone, and I no longer needed the ice pack. I still couldn't remember losing the match last night, but I remembered why I had forgotten. I had also been told who would be doing a run-in tonight.

"Good news," said Paul. "You can go tonight."

I smiled. That was all I needed to hear.

*****

Tuesday, September 9, 2003, 06:44 PM

Birmingham, AL

Paul and I were in the conference room. He had asked to speak to each of us separately. I had no idea what Kathleen was told, but Greg talked to me after he came out. He said something about Matt Hardy being a concern right now. He said that Vince was still lost, and that we weren't to get discouraged. He mentioned that changes may need to be made soon. I nodded and tried to ask for further info, but my efforts were stymied seemingly every time.

"Andy," he said, every word weighted not from anger, but from caution that I understand it. "Andy, I know this must be hard. I have never been in your shoes, and I don't want to be. How are you doing?"

I pointed to my head, then made motions with my fingers to indicate that I was seeing stars.

"Can you wrestle tonight?"

I nodded.

"Okay. That's good. Let me look you over."

He pulled out his glasses and put them on. He opened my eyes one at a time and peered into them. He examined my hands and arms. I gave him a confused look as he did so.

"Please, I know what I'm doing," he said. I waited. I tried to ask what was going on, but in my excitement everything came out in Japanese. He looked again at my face, then frowned.

"Okay, I think you can make it another day or two. Andy, I'm testing to see if you're having..." I couldn't make out what came next. I stopped him right there.

"Sorry. Andy, you are losing yourself. How much of your talking has been Japanese?"

I wanted to say almost all of it, but when that too came out in Japanese, Paul laughed.

"See? Do you know what happened last week with Greg?"

If this is about Stacy and that Test thing, I'm not sure I want to know the rest of what Paul is going to say.

"He told me today that the first day he was in Recovery, he still looked like Stacy. When Test moved, Stacy took over, and he suffered. The same thing could happen to you."

Who, me? But I'm okay. I still know who I am. My thoughts are still in English. What's he talking about?

"Yes, you, Andy."

I didn't even realize I was speaking there. I panicked. What did I say? I tried to ask, but again the words came out wrong. Dammit, I have to think to talk! I began clutching my head in frustration.

"Andy, please! Just listen. Can you do that?"

I nodded.

"Okay. Good. Now, Kathleen tells me that there's a problem with Matt Hardy. She's been hanging around with him for a while now, you know. Apparently, Jeff is... well... all she knows is that Jeff has no job, and Matt is trying to take care of him. Do you understand?"

I nodded. Should I ask if I can talk to Matt? Wait, that wouldn't do any good at all.

"Now... please... don't do anything to Kathleen tonight. I want you to be the better man. Kathleen is already on notice. I'd hate to lose her. I told her she had to get out, but she wouldn't listen. Please, Andy, don't do anything to her. Try to make her feel better. I'm begging you."

I had to talk. I took a deep breath and searched for the words. They came out slowly, but they did come out.

"Do... I... have... to?"

"Yes! Come on, I've told Kathleen the same thing. I've told her she's not right. I don't know what it is. She's got into trouble on RAW, too. It's... look, Andy, just... just do it, okay?"

I sighed.

"Okay. Look... are you all right? I'm going to make the same offer to you I did to her. Do you want out?"

I shook my head. To be honest, I wanted to try to stick this out. I didn't think anything bad would happen.

"Andy, trust me. If you think you're losing who you are, see me right away. Before you got here, and while I've been here, there was someone who... well... was losing himself. The next week, he... he continued to be the other guy. He didn't change. We had to transfer him. He... he forgot who he was."

Wow. That is bad.

I nodded. "I... will... tell... you... Heyma-san."

"Thank you. Now, listen. Vince has been a little unreachable, I know. It's hard to get to him unless you're in a good position. But what you did lastw eekasMi chae lColed idalo tofg ood. Yous houl db ecom mend ed."

I frantically waved my arms. He was going too fast.

"Sorry, Andy, I got carried away. You did a good job last week. Vince told me he thought Cole was an example to follow. Thank you."

I breathed a sigh of relief. I wanted to say you're welcome, but I couldn't. I just figured it would be better to thank Paul back.

"Domo."

Oh dear.

*****

7:58 PM

Spanky and I waited in the ring as the hard guitar chords of the APA's theme music started up. Ron Simmons and Bradshaw emerged from the back and played to the crowd. I turned to Brian and tried to communicate non-verbally. It wasn't easy, since he was too busy staring down his opponents.

As the World's Greatest Tag Team came out and joined the fray, all six of us stared at each other. It was tornado rules, and one fall to the finish. I personally couldn't wait. We had no idea who would strike first. Well, let's go for it.

I kicked Bradshaw hard in the chest and tackled him down. Everyone paired off and began fighting. Bradshaw got up and started punching at me. This time, I knew what to expect, and I braced myself for the worst. The punches bounced off my skull and rattled my brains for a split second. I reversed course and fired back, hoping to give him a taste of his own medicine. Before I could, though, Haas grabbed me from behind in a German suplex. My head bounced off the mat. I felt sick.

I grabbed Haas and began to flip him across the ring, following in with a slide kick to his gut. Shelton grabbed me, and the duo did a double brainbuster. Of all the weeks to be dropped on my head repeatedly, why oh why this one? Shelton picked me up for a fisherman's suplex, but I blocked and hit a knee attack out of it. I felt someone grab me from behind. Assuming it was Haas, I ducked when Shelton's foot flew in.

Simmons went flying outside, where he and Bradshaw regained their senses. Back in the ring, I saw Brian being set up for the leapfrog choke. I intercepted Shelton with an enzuigiri, then clipped Haas from behind. Spanky climbed the ropes and dove out onto the APA in one quick motion. Meanwhile, I was hit with a double lariat from behind. Shelton grabbed me and delivered a front Russian legsweep, holding my arms so I couldn't protect myself.

As I cleared the cobwebs, Haas hoisted me into an atomic drop position. I saw Shelton waiting for me to land and thought fast. I began to bite as Haas' forehead. When he dropped me, I smacked his face so hard he fell down. I played to the crowd, with the result that I never saw Shelton's boot come at me.

I fell to the outside, straight into Bradshaw's waiting arms. Please, man, go easy. I wanted to beg with him, but my words meant nothing to him. He tossed me into the post as Simmons and Brian re-entered the ring. From there, I was this close to getting bulled over by a Bradshaw lariat. Fortunately for my health, I ducked. Then I kicked him in the back of the head. It felt nice to give rather than receive.

I jumped into the ring and grabbed Haas from behind in a tiger suplex. I tried to bridge, but the pressure was on my neck, and I gave out at one. Haas picked me up and tried to ask if I was all right. I nodded. I don't know why. He grabbed me and suplexed me to the canvas. Meanwhile, Shelton dove off the ropes to splash me. I got my knees up.

I slowly made it to my feet as Brian escaped and came over to me. He climbed the turnbuckle under which I was resting. I pulled my arms up to him as all four men began brawling. Brian yelled, "Incoming!" Everyone turned his way as I made the throw motion. Brian soared at them, and even though they were warned, they couldn't get out of the way.

I dove onto Bradshaw to cover, but at two he tossed me off. I timed it so that I landed on Shelton and got two on him before his shoulder came up. Simmons grabbed me and tossed me into the turnbuckle. I staggered back to him, and he caught me and tossed me down in his spinebuster. My head bounced off the canvas on impact. This is not my night.

Simmons covered, and Brian saved at two. In another corner, Haas and Shelton hit the leapfrog choke on Bradshaw. Spanky went onto Simmons for a victory roll, and I nailed Ron in the back of the head to help him over. Shelton saved at two. Meanwhile, Haas had Bradshaw pinned, but I dove in to save. At this point, Matt Hardy and Shannon Moore ran in, and everything fell apart.

The ref desperately called for the bell as eight men went at it. I was paired with Matt, trading blows in one corner. Brian had Shannon rocking in another. We went to whip the two together, but Shannon vaulted Matt and crashed his forearm across the bridge of my nose. I went down in a heap, not expecting this. Shannon continued the assault, but Haas pulled him off and delivered an Angle Slam-like move to keep him down. I pulled Shannon up, but he sent his arm up for a low blow, then slammed my face to the mat. I rolled to the outside to gain my composure.

While out there, I slipped under the ring. A ring crew guy handed me a baggie. I bit down on it and pulled it out, getting the green water ready in my mouth. I jumped back in as Shannon and Matt were delivering stereo Twists of Fate to the APA. I reared back and let Shannon have it.

He didn't even flinch.

Fortunately, Shelton superkicked him. That made him fall down. I stood over him, signalling for the Buzzsaw Kick. But before I could deliver, Paul's thoughts crept into my mind. Be the better man. Be the better man. Ugh. I hope someone cuts me off.

Haas saw it happening and tackled me. I chopped at his throat, while he punched around my face. Eventually, referees pulled us all off of each other and tried to escort the people to the back. Shannon and I were left in the ring. Everyone else was in the aisle, surrounded by a dozen officials. I dove at everyone first, cheering the crowd. Shannon faked like he would follow, then slid out of the ring and grabbed the belts. He took off throught the crowd while we all picked ourselves up.

*****

That night, we rested in our hotel rooms. I took a long hot bath, feeling grateful that with Tajiri's body I could fit in it without much trouble. I soaked myself to alleviate the pain of the numerous blows to the head. I was tired. Very tired.

After a long bath, I climbed into the bed. Funaki hadn't arrived yet. I sat back and went to read a book. Oh, that's right. I can't read English. Wait, I could read Paul's note -- I think. I'm confused.

*****

Wednesday, September 10, 2003, 07:45 AM

Birmingham, AL

I answered the alarm and looked over at Funaki. He was still asleep -- he didn't want to wake up before 9 anyway. I stretched and made my way to the bathroom. As I did so, I nearly knocked the glasses off of the table. I picked them up and stared at them. When you think about it, they really are curious things, aren't they? They mean so little to whoever has them, yet they're everything to me.

I was supposed to meet Chavo and Paul for an early breakfast. I washed up and got dressed. As I did so, for a lark, I put the glasses on. I wanted to see what I looked like in Tajiri's outfit.

Instead, I saw Tajiri's face on my body. I was too saw certain elements that made me know I wasn't gone. My hands were calloused, with a scar on my left index finger and a lesion on my right from long long ago. My arms were covered in pockmarks, which the family doctor could never explain but which were never noticeable to anyone who wasn't looking for them. But my face was not mine.

I dashed downstairs, carrying the glasses with me. I found Paul and Chavo in the lobby. Paul could tell from my excitement that something was wrong. I forced the words out of my mouth.

"I... am... no... use. I... need... out."

*****

Wednesday, September 10, 2003

Recovery

I was alone.

I knew I was alone. Kathleen and Greg were just fine. I remember the words Paul gave to me before letting me escape. He told me I had done the right thing, and that escaping wasn't a failure.

Was it? What was my mission? Why am I here? Is it to help others? How can I do that while I'm stuck in no man's land? I can't. But then again, if I blink out or if I lose my identity, I can't do it either. I have to think about my priority.

I guess it's to me, in the end. I can't do any good for other people unless I make sure I'm doing the right thing. Was this the right thing? Of course, from that perspective, it is. I had to save myself before I could save others.

But what about the others I'm with all the time? I suppose Greg can fend for himself, but Kathleen was impossible to deal with. She blames me. She hates me. No, she can't hate me -- she's still here. Or am I assuming too much? I don't know anymore.

I just hope she learns quickly to behave. I can't have her keeping a grudge all the time. Wait, what's this "I" stuff? It's not me she serves, is it? No! I shouldn't care how she is when I need help.

No, that's a stupid thing to think. She needs me, and I need her. I need Greg, and Owen, and Lindsay. I need Paul and Shawn. And in a way, I need Vince. I need to be reminded why I'm here. I'm here to help Vince McMahon. He needs it more than anyone.

Except that as long as he's still alive, he can be saved. I'm dead. Kathleen's dead. If we're lost, we're gone. So who's the priority? I guess we all are. The only way we can save Vince is by working together. So we're only as strong as the weakest one of us out there. No wonder we couldn't get anything done.

So, I guess right now, the first thing I need to do is patch things up with Kathleen. But she's out there, and I'm in here. Oh well. That's why there's the rest of my life. I just hope Paul can talk sense into her. She was absolutely trying to hurt me out there. My head, my nose, my...

Wait a second. I don't have a headache. My nose is okay. Why is that? Oh, of course. It was Tajiri's nose and head that got pummeled. It wasn't mine. Man, I guess I was worse off than I thought. I'm glad there's no mirrors or reason to talk in here. I don't want to know what I look or sound like.

I hope everyone's okay out there. I'm glad I only get a few hours of a day. But I left so soon. Why? Isn't that a mistake? No, wait... Lindsay left on Monday once. This is so confusing. I should just let it go. I need to make me better. I should focus on building myself.

But the first thing I need to do is get this burden of Kathleen's envy, anger... pride... whatever it is off myself. I'm feeling weaker for having caused it. I don't know if I can perform my duties out there while I'm... troubled like this. I gotta focus on something else.

Wow, I'm tired. My time must almost be up. Maybe tomorrow I will get an answer. But I can't sleep like this. I need some form of closure... come on, change the subject. You're only in here a few days. Before you know it, it'll be Monday again, and you can go back to working on... on...

What am I going to do when I get back? What person do I work on? Wait, Paul mentioned something about Jeff Hardy. But I can't reach him. He's... he's not in the WWE. If only there was a way. Maybe if I'm Matt I'll have a chance. I need to know what it is. It's weird. I shouldn't care about him, because he's outside my scope. But then again, he's a human being. He needs love.

Heh -- don't we all? I closed my eyes.

[The Third Dukes]

Of note, it was right about now that people were calling for this to be in the EWB3 Hall of Fame, since technically the DDHOF had yet to be established. As honored as I was, I felt I still had a lot of ticking people off to do.

So by now, Kathleen was teetering on the verge of being completely evil, which is something I couldn't have. For one thing, I needed to keep her alive; for another, the tension she had with Andy (more than just generic teen angst) seemed to be a driving factor in these shows. It was her mistrust that I realized was going to make keeping her around almost impossible, but I tried.

In fact, I tried to reverse field in this chapter -- a little. Kathleen's impulsive nature made it easy for me to claim just about anything happened. Plus, the worse things got for Andy, the more fun I had. Don't ask me why I liked torturing "myself" in this story. It made for good theater.

Anyway, this chapter deals with some reminiscing about Sept. 11, 2001. Where Andy was, I was. And it pains me to think that people are taking advantage of the grief I thought I would feel that day. It angers me when people claim such a major national disaster was invited, or that somehow people could have stopped it. In other words, go to Hell, Michael Moore, you fat ugly slob.

*****

Chapter 20

The Lost Weekend

Thursday, September 11, 2003

I didn't see anyone. I guess that's another day off. I got up and walked around. My mind was more at ease than yesterday. Even then, though, it floated through to the future and the time I would need to fix my problems.

I paced around the room. I figured it was best to write off this week, since I had been given a "bad" assignment. I guess God thought I could handle it. Maybe I could. Maybe another day or place, I would've excelled at overcoming the language problems. But too much was happening. That side issue with Kathleen was clouding everything up.

Kathleen. How inconsiderate can one person get? What was she thinking out there? _Was_ she thinking? I don't know. It was all about her feelings, her life, her death, her past. How'd she ever end up on our side anyway? How did it come to this? Why, if she were here right now I'd...

"Ow!"

I jumped back. I couldn't tell where the voice had come from, and looking around, there wasn't anywhere obvious. But I knew the voice. Now was my opportunity to let loose.

"Kathleen? Where are you?"

I darted up to the front tunnel, but before I reached it, she spoke again.

"Back here."

I turned around and began to scan the area. There was no sign of another human being -- or former human being -- anywhere in the room.

"On the ground. Can't you see me?"

"No. No, I can't."

"Oh, no... I'm too late..."

I heard tiny sobs coming from in front of me. I tried squinting to see if it would do any good. I still couldn't see anything. The whole room had an air about it -- like an episode of the Twilight Zone. I gulped.

"Kathleen, you're going to have to be specific."

"I can't... I don't know where I am."

"Did you just get here?"

"Yeah."

"Well, maybe you're not all here yet."

"No... Mr. Heyman says you are. I'm just gone... it's too late."

Too late? For what? If she's here, she's here.

"Please, calm down. Talk to me. I'll sit down if you want." I sat down and waited. The story came choked with tears, lost in a sea of sorrow and piteous wailing.

"It was... earlier today. W... we were g...g...going to the next show. Greg and I... we... he was telling me to try to focus. I couldn't hear him. I could... barely hear anything. All I could think of w... was you.

Paul couldn't g...get my attention for most of the day. I... I... I was lost in my own world. You hurt me. You made me feel insignificant. I wanted to hurt you. I wanted to make y... you suffer. But I... I kept hurting my... self at the same time.

When we got to the hotel... Paul t... took me aside and told me to... to look in the mirror. I couldn't see me. I couldn't see anything b... b... but these green lights from be... behind the glasses. I was feeling so weak. My vision w... was going. I had to look... right at Paul to... to know what he was saying. I d... d... don't remember anything else."

Her voice went up in volume. "Andy, I'm dead again! I... I'm gone! I'm gonna die! I'm gonna go to Hell!"

The sobbing became wailing. I would have comforted her if I knew where to look. Just then, two streaks of flesh appeared, about eight feet away from me. I moved around to where they were, taking a wide berth lest I step on her again. I looked closer and saw two eye shaped disks, a bright green, at the top of the streaks. Every few seconds they'd shut off and come back on again, accompanied by a new line of flesh appearing, with the occasional brown intertwining in the pink.

I was at her head.

"Kathleen, no. It's okay... you're alive. You're here. I can see where you are now." I tried to scoop underneath her head and bring it to my chest. "You're all right. You survived."

"I'm a piece of crap... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Andy... I... I deserve to die." I felt an arm grab my arm, and a body struggle to pull itself up. She must have buried her face into my chest, just as Torrie did when I was the Undertaker. She hadn't stopped crying.

"Kathleen... no one deserves to die. I can't think of anyone who'd want something bad to happen to you."

"Yeah, right. You wish I was dead."

"No, no! I wish you were happy. Right now, you're upset at a lot of things. You don't like your friends... you don't like your job... you don't like me... but that's all right. Look at me. Look into my eyes, please."

I felt a body pull away for a few seconds. The two green disks were pointed at me, surrounded by trails of tears, colored in the pink of living flesh and the brown and black of char. I heard a big sniffle.

"Do these eyes seem like they'd lie to you?"

"I... I don't know. You're just trying... to make me feel good."

I felt her head return to my chest. I looked down at her. I could see her now -- sort of. She was unbelievably faint, almost an outline of herself. I couldn't find any color, and I had to stare to see form. It was as if someone drew her with a three-dimensional pencil.

"Well, you need to feel better about yourself. I don't want you to die again. I can't. I need you, Kathleen."

She looked up again. "You mean that?"

"We all need each other. You, me... and Greg and Paul and Shawn... even Owen and Lindsay. We all need each other. I've thought about this for a long time. Kathleen, without the rest of you, I'm nothing. I might as well be a myth. We validate each other. We have to -- we're the only ones who understand."

I brushed her hair as I let her cry some more. Poor girl. I can't imagine what it's like to stare your own mortality down. I was lucky -- I died instantly. She was lucky -- she was unconscious. But now... now she had to face her own death. And it would've been permanent. I don't ever want that to happen to me.

"Andy?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

I thought for a while. From her perspective, there was no reason for me to like her. But I knew differently. "Because I was 16 once. Because I thought I could conquer the world before I was ready to run my own life. Because I realized what it was like to have my dreams shattered when I went off to college and saw life wasn't easy any more. And because I died too. And death is terrible, and it shouldn't happen to anyone as young as we were."

"Yeah, right... you just want me to feel better."

Maybe I do, kid. It's what you need right now.

"Kathleen, if you keep thinking negative thoughts, you're not going to get any better. You've improved already. I can see most of your face, and you're getting your form back. How do you think I'm able to comfort you right now? What's important is that you exist. What's important is that you live again."

I felt her shift around in my lap. I lay down and waited. She placed a hand near my heart as her head used my stomach for a pillow.

"You need to rest, Kath. You need to think happy thoughts."

"I can't. I'm too scared to think. Have you ever been like that, Andy?"

I smiled. "Once, when I was alive," I said. "It was... actually, it's funny you bring this up. You know what day it is?"

"Thursday."

"More to the point, it's Thursday, September 11."

"Yeah? So what does... oh my God, Andy, were you...?"

"Well, not really. I was working downtown in Washington when it happened. I don't know if I was ever in danger. I may never know. It's not important. But I thought I would die. I did everything I could to get out and flee to home. I was scared. I was worthless that day."

"But weren't we all worthless?"

"Nope. Not all of us. Certainly not those guys who brought the fourth plane down -- they probably gave me the last two years of my life for free. The Mayor -- Rudy -- he wasn't worthless, keeping the spirit of a nation alive. The Red Cross, the police, the fire department -- they did all they could, and the lives they saved... I'm sure the world will never know. But I was worthless, because I was too focused on myself."

She looked up. Her "eyes" were paler now, and I could better see the visage she had tried to hide from me. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

"Maybe. Maybe I am. Or maybe I'm trying to tell myself something. Kathleen, the point is that we both made mistakes. And as long as we think of ourselves first, we're gonna make mistakes. Isn't that what gets people lost in the first place?"

"I dunno. I always thought it was because they screwed up." She tried to roll over and face me. "Am I ugly?"

What do I say now? How do I find any positive in a face that she thinks is hideous? Her missing ear, her burnt lips, the splotches of color everywhere -- and now her eyes, glowing, inhuman -- where's the look in that? But wait... I'm being shallow. I'm thinking in earthly terms again. And maybe that's not a bad thing, but it won't do any good now. Do I say yes and re-affirm her self-doubt? Or do I say no and risk her thinking I'm lying to make her feel good? After a few seconds, the answer came to me.

"Kathleen, you can be as beautiful as you want to be. We all can. That's how our life is."

"I wanna be a princess."

"Hey, weren't you already Stephanie a few weeks ago?"

She laughed. As she did so, I saw more color return to her body. I saw a smile emerge on her face -- in fact, I saw all of her face again. She had gotten better -- not recovered, but not on the door of annihilation, either.

"You're funny."

"And you're great to be around. You make me try harder."

"How's that?"

"Well, you're younger than I am. I feel like I got a little sister again. I want to show you how to behave, how to help, and how to act. I lost sight of that over some stupid misunderstanding. I'm sorry I drove you to this." I held her closer.

"Thank you." She relaxed completely. I took a closer look. She was asleep again.

Rest up, kiddo. We got a long weekend together.

*****

Friday, September 12, 2003

Kathleen was still asleep. She wasn't any closer to being healthy yet. I could only imagine how close she had come to dying. I began to wonder what sort of power had overcome her that she was being consumed to such a degree. What was it that made her so bad that even now I could barely see her?

There had to be more than just the problems with me. I wished there was some way to find out, but with Kathleen in such a fragile state, I couldn't imagine what it would've been. To make matters worse, there was literally no way of finding out. I couldn't communicate with the outside world at all. I was trapped, even though I was ready to go back.

I remembered that Paul said there was no getting out until Monday. I knew I made the right call escaping Tajiri -- there was little doubt that the language barrier was making me so worthless as to question my existence. But when I left, Kathleen seemed to be in control, even if she was getting too personal. What happened so quickly?

I didn't know whether to ask her about it. I had no idea whether there could be a relapse. I knew we were in Recovery and all, but there was something about the procedure that didn't make sense. How did this work? How did I get healthier? The worst part was not having anyone to ask. Kathleen wouldn't know. I doubt Greg or Paul knew, either. And contacting RAW about this seemed out of the question any time soon.

For better or worse, I was stuck in my own world right now. For better or worse, I had to put this setback behind me and continue the mission. But right now, there was no way to do that. Even if I had stayed in Tajiri, odds were I couldn't do it either. I was beginning to lose sight of who I was out there. Still, five days seemed an eternity to be away from here.

"Andy?"

Kathleen was awake. I tried to make out her form against the ground. I couldn't see where her overalls were, or her hair, or much of anything. But I saw her eyes. They were still a solid green.

"Andy... are you there?"

"I'm right here. Are you feeling better?"

"No."

"Do you wanna talk some more?"

"I dunno... there's nothing else to do."

"Kathleen, I can leave you alone if you want. That's always a possibility. You know that."

"I don't wanna be alone. I'm scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Hell."

I walked over to her. I reached my hand down. "Here, lemme help you up."

She reached her hand out and held it up, nowhere near mine, and waited. I tried to get over to it, all the while wondering why she was so far off. Pulling her up took more strength than I imagined, and as soon as I had her upright, I heard her fall over again.

"I guess I'm not ready."

"It's okay. But... why did you put your hand so far away?"

"Andy... I can't see you."

I stopped in my tracks.

"You can't? You sure seemed like you could last time."

"No... I was just following your voice. Andy, all I see is green everywhere. I'm blind!"

She covered her face in her hands, as if it would do any good. I leaned over to where she was and touched her arms.

"Kathleen... you'll be fine. You can't be blind forever. You're just sick right now. Give it time."

"Are you sure I won't die?"

"Yes, I'm sure. You can't die here; you're safe now."

"Okay... I guess... I'm just... I did too much."

I could tell it was the moment of truth. I got the feeling that I had to act now. There were words that she needed to hear, whether I believed them or not. I knew the right thing to do was to be the better man.

"Kathleen, I forgive you. You are forgiven. I know you are."

"It's not you... It's Sh... Sh... Shannon I'm scared of."

"Why?"

"If I'm like this... how's he?"

"He's fine. You took his bullet. He wasn't affected by you."

"Are you sure?"

"That's what I was told. I haven't seen any reason to believe otherwise. What's necessary is that you get healthy now. That's what's important."

"Okay... I guess..." She seemed to be shivering from fear. I sat beside her and held her to me.

"You're a good person. You'll be a good person again. You just need to control yourself."

"Are you sure?"

"I know you are."

"Andy?"

"Yeah?"

"I feel better now... like, I trust you. You've been so nice to me."

"Hey... what are ghosts for?"

She smiled as she curled up in my lap and closed her eyes.

*****

Saturday, September 13, 2003

"Kathleen? Are you awake?"

"Yeah. Where are you? I still can't see anything."

"That's not important. I just want to talk to you right now. I want to tell you that... well, that I was rude and insensitive. I didn't take your feelings into consideration at all when I started rattling on about high school. I wasn't thinking."

"I wasn't either, Andy. I guess I'm still not. I just don't want to be dead."

"A little late for that, isn't it?"

"I guess so." She smiled, faintly. Everything about her was faint. It had been three days and she was still a long way from healthy. But there were some signs of improvement. I couldn't believe she was feeling this way about me -- that I was the only reason she'd sunk this far. Of course, it's not my place to pry, is it?

"Kathleen -- is something else bothering you? Is there some other reason you're here? I can't imagine I'm such a big deal."

"You're not... there's something else."

"What is it?"

"Jeff."

"Jeff? Jeff Hardy? What's wrong with him? Paul wouldn't tell me everything."

"Matt's worried about him cuz he's not doin' anything."

"He told you?"

"He told Shannon."

"...Okay. What does he know?"

"Well... Jeff's been stuck doing the once-in-a-while appearance for his old backyard group. No one calls him for work. Some group in Philly wanted him, but the fans wouldn't give him a chance, and he took it too hard. He's been trying to hold his own with some band, but they're going nowhere. He doesn't return Matt's calls or messages. He's... Shannon isn't sure he's alive."

"Is Matt?"

"Matt can never see him. He's on the road all the time... it's tearing at him. He keeps wanting to make plans, but he can't get to Jeff... I don't know what's going on."

"Sounds serious. Look, Kath... next week I'll see what I can do. I want you to do the same, okay?"

"Will I be ok next week? I've never been this bad before."

"I hope you will. Besides, you don't have to do anything. I mean, couple weeks ago you freaked out in 30 seconds."

"I know... I know I did. You know why?"

"Why?"

"Cuz of Kane."

"Oh... of course. Too similar to how you died, is that it?"

"Worse." She turned her head away, even though she didn't have a field of vision for me to be in. "I used to be him."

"When?"

"Remember when he and Jim Ross did that segment?"

"Oh, geez, yes. That was just a little over the t..." It hit me. "Oh. You were Kane then."

"Yeah. I can't look at him without becoming useless. It's why I'm here and not on RAW. I had to switch with Owen. And to make matters worse, it was my first day. My FIRST DAY on the job, and I have to go through my death all over again!"

I sat in silence. I waited until I was certain she was done before speaking. "I'm sorry. I understand."

"No you don't... but that's okay... I guess. I don't wanna start this again. I don't wanna be mad at you. Are you mad at me?"

"No. Not at all."

"Thank you."

*****

Sunday, September 14, 2003

"Andy, are you there?"

She was standing up for the first time in days. She was still only half there, and her eyes, while whiter, still had no semblance of pupil in them. Then again, considering she started the week as an outline of herself, this was incredible improvement.

"I'm right behind you. And it looks like you're doing a lot better."

"Yeah... I can walk again!" She laughed as she spun around. Her spirits were a lot higher from our talks. It was as if she just needed the emotional burden lifted from her.

"Hey Andy, catch me!" She began to run off, but stopped and stumbled after a few steps. "Whew. I guess I'm not ready yet."

I laughed. "Yeah, I don't think you'll be out tomorrow. I may be wrong though."

"It's okay... I kinda like the time alone here."

"Why?"

"I can be me. I can be silly. I can do all sorts of things I'm not allowed to do out there."

"Like what?"

"Uh-uh. I can't tell you."

"Oh, come on, why not?"

"Cuz you'll want me to do 'em here."

She had a point. "Well, is that bad?"

She just smiled and winked.

"What's that for?"

"Well... I guess I can tell you. But you promise not to get all excited over it?"

"Sure." What could I get excited over?

"Well, ya know how I said I was trying to sleep in an old building when I died?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"So, St. Peter gave me these for my own sake," she said, pointing to her overalls. Oh dear...

"What do you mean?" Play dumb, play dumb...

"Well... I wasn't wearing these when I died."

"You weren't?"

"Nope." She giggled and posed like someone trying to imitate a fashion cover model. "You know what I was wearing?"

"I'm afraid to ask."

"Why? Don't you think I'm pretty? Don't you want to think about it?"

Oh bloody heck. "Kathleen, how old were you?"

"Sixteen... why?"

"I thought so. It's not right for me to go any further. And you really shouldn't either. It's not a matter of how pretty you are or were or anything like that. It's just... wrong."

She pouted. "But I like being a tease!"

"Yeah, well, most guys wouldn't want to go along with that."

"Greg did."

"What?"

"He likes me. He wanted to know everything... he made me feel sexy."

My mind froze. I had no idea what that statement meant, and I wasn't sure I wanted to. All I knew was, it seemed to imply something very, very creepy.

"How old is Greg?"

"He says he was 20. He looks a little older."

"Yeah, I'd say so. Doesn't it bother you that if you two were alive, you couldn't be the way you are now?"

"But he really likes me. I know he does. And I like him too. What, don't you like me?"

Lindsay's face flashed into my mind for reasons I couldn't explain. It didn't seem like a total free association -- as if there was a link in there that I couldn't find. I began to speak, to stall for time while I put the pieces together.

"It's not... it's not that. I just don't think it's... it's too smart for you to act this way. If you go too far, I mean... what with you not fully healed and all... don't you think you're playing with fire a little? Isn't it..."

It occurred to me. I suddenly knew why I was so nervous about it. It wasn't because she didn't seem like she would have been good looking. It wasn't really because she was so young. It was because I wanted someone else there.

"Come on, Andy, you like me. Don't you?"

"Well... yes and no. See, Greg may really like you -- and if you two feel that way, more power to you -- but I can't. I have someone else like that."

"Lindsay?"

"Who else? She's the only other female."

"But she's not here. She doesn't have to know what I do."

Oh my God, she's sounding like Jessi! "Kathleen, I'm serious. Stop now. Maybe some other time. Maybe... just... you're being too serious about this. Those words... they're the same ones that stalker John has said. I was there. You're making a mistake. Just drop it. Please."

She sat down, frustrated. "It's all the same. I don't look good anyway."

"I never said that... it's just I'd... you gotta understand. What you were saying... it was tempting. But I can't let temptation be an issue. I need to live. You need to live. What you and Greg do is your business... but I hope it's real love, and not some desire. I know it wouldn't be that way for me."

"All right... go have fun." She yawned. "I guess I'll save it for when I'm alone tomorrow."

"You do that... good night, and sweet dreams... if you have any."

*****

Monday, September 15, 2003, 06:54 AM

Gastonia, NC

I woke up on my own, without an alarm. I looked around. This was no hotel room. There were pennants everywhere of UNC, the Panthers, and the Hornets. A giant poster of 3 Count hung on one wall. The entire bookshelf was stacked with videotapes. Above my bed was a Hardy Boyz poster.

I've been transferred! Oh no! Why wasn't I warned? I panicked. I jumped out of bed to find my glasses, but there were none to be seen. I exited the room and found myself overlooking a large hall on an upper floor. I couldn't figure anything out. It was all a blur.

"Hey, dude, you all right?"

I freaked out. The voice sounded familiar, and it was a male voice, but I couldn't place it. I was almost on autopilot. "Yeah, Greg. Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

Oh, no! Greg's not...

"It's all right, man. Just get some sleep."

What the...?

I peered around the corner where the voice came from. The setup was much the same in the room, but a different person was in the bed. His bright green hair, a special dye made for him, stood out from within the white pillowcase. I knew it anywhere, and after seeing it, I ducked back into "my" room, breathing a sigh of relief.

I almost blew it. But I'm okay. And I wasn't transferred. I'm still here.

I lay back down, but was unable to sleep. I went looking for a reflective surface. There was no mirror in the bedroom. Suddenly, I saw a pile of CDs in one corner. Of course! The back side of a CD is a reflective surface!

I tredged through piles of comic books to the CD stack. I opened the first case. No CD was inside. I tried a second one. There was a CD. I flipped it over and held it up to the light. Then, slowly, I pointed it at me.

I smiled as the reflection smiled back. It seemed as though God knew how I could do the most good this week. And here I was, in my best friend Greg's house -- Greg Helms -- as an old friend, ready to hit the road as SmackDown! was in Raleigh, and I was set for the biggest moment of my life.

Goodbye, Tajiri. Hello, Shannon Moore.

[oldskool]

I feel so deathly old reading all of this.

I really need to remember to be careful to not read the part that traumatized me for about a week when I first read it. Although I already read the part that initially traumatized me....

[The Third Dukes]

Congratulations, <insert random funny description here>. You're gonna love what I got for you this time. Having attacked just about every possible alley into the seriousness of pro wrestling, I decided on a look at the bizarre. What follows is one of those weird chapters where I take a few loving potshots.

Layfield gets the "locker room leader" treatment.

{Hyatte mode on}

Not like that. Homos.

{Hyatte mode off}

But he is portrayed as being an enforcer, and with Shannon Moore in need of being disciplined, we have a little fun with it. You'll also notice a few topical references -- it was about this time that New Hampshire's Old Stone Face memorial finally disintegrated, which was notable because the thing's on their state quarter. Oops.

But most importantly, this chapter could not have been completed without RD Reynolds. You'll see.

Also of note, actually, is the insane amount of punishment I give my guy again. But this time, there's a reason. You see, this is when I decided to up the proverbial ante and make things more difficult. As a result, I never actually published the RAW for this week. Oh, like you're reading this for the matches.

*****

Chapter 21

One Crappy Day

Monday, September 15, 2003, 02:11 PM

Greenville, NC

Paul was waiting for me as I got off the bus in Greenville. Greg -- Hurricane -- had driven me there as he headed off to Charleston. I could tell he was excited, and I didn't blame him. Tonight he was getting the chance to be in the main event of RAW. I, meanwhile, was about to face a man I had let down.

I had called him on the way over on my cellular phone. Fortunately, I remember the phone number from weeks prior as Michael Cole, although I don't think Shannon would notice if _he_ had never known before. I had to explain to him, while on a crowded bus, where I was and why I was there. You can imagine how well that went.

However, things were about to get worse. Paul hadn't arrived alone -- Matt Hardy was with him. I gulped as I stepped toward the car. I didn't know who to be more afraid of -- after all, if there were plans for Mattitude, Shannon may have ruined them, while if there were plans to help Vince, I may have postponed them too long. I was torn between fears. I felt my heart race.

Matt looked at me and smiled. He piled into the seat next to me and gave me a strong hug of acceptance. "Thanks, Matt," I said. "I needed that."

"Now, are you going to be a pro out there? I don't want Vince to have to send you home permanently. I've got a lot of trust in his eyes from you and Greg... I wanna keep it, and I want you to keep employed."

"Yes, Matt," I said, wearily. "If... if anything was supposed to happen, I'm sorry. I just lost control. You ever have times when you feel like your life's a roller coaster? You know, where everything's just goin' around you and you can't stop it, cuz you're just along for the ride? I mean, that's how I feel. So much over the past week, with Jeff and with you and... other things... it's crazy, man. I can't explain."

"Look, I know what Jeff did must be hard on you. I'm his brother -- trust me, I know it's hard to see him become this. You tried -- that's what counts. But come on, you gotta let that be, man. You can't let it get to you! We got a big warmup tonight, and tomorrow we're back in TLC. It's time to get on track, right?"

"Right."

I could only speak in one-word answers. Something inside me hurt more than just feeling like I was unprofessional. As Matt talked about how hard things were on him, a voice kept saying to me that he didn't truly understand. I couldn't explain the nagging feeling -- I could only hope Paul knew what it was.

*****

03:00 PM

I had requested time alone with Paul in the conference room to try to get a fathoming of the timeline here. Apparently, Kathleen hadn't given me the full story -- or, she didn't want to know it herself.

"Andy, it's a lot more complicated than you think, the whole OMEGA thing. See... well, Shannon and Jeff go way back..."

"I know that. Everyone grew up together, broke into the business together... Paul, I was one of the armchair critics on the internet everyone talks about before I died. Heck, I even asked Shannon about how to get into OMEGA."

"Andy, let me finish! See, I'm sure you've heard the rumors... about Jeff... and, well... let's just say it's not like with me or with Patterson."

"Paul? Are you saying you're..."

"No. I'm not. In fact, I'm trying to say the opposite about me. It's not like with me where they have no bearing, or with Pat where he's open about it. This is... well, not too many people know. I only know because Kathleen thought it was weird and wanted to ask me about it."

"Paul... are you saying I'm... I... and he... we... what?"

"Shhh! It's a secret. You and Jeff want to keep it secret."

I couldn't breathe. This wasn't what I had in mind. I had to know more. "Paul... are we still...?"

Paul sat back, trying to get comfortable with a subject he wanted nothing to do with. "Yes. Yes you are. In fact, that's what got Kathleen in trouble. She had a crush on the guy from a long time ago -- her friends had posters of him, and he always wanted to meet the guy. Well, he went down to Cameron after I told her to take time off. Thursday morning, she was panicked. She told me she couldn't see herself. She was barely alive. She said that she..."

"Never mind," I interrupted. "I can imagine. But if that's the case... how did I get here? I shouldn't be Shannon -- should I?"

"I can't answer that. For all I know, Kathleen went to a new level. She didn't tell me. She just said she needed out."

I paused. A million thoughts went through my head. I had never felt this strongly about a guy before. I was figuring the first time it would happen would be when I became a Diva. But now? I knew that feelings were feelings, but I could never... I wouldn't... can I?

"Paul, I'm confused. I don't wanna have to... I shouldn't. It's not right. It's not who I am."

"Andy, it is who you are. Right now, you are Shannon Moore. Whether you like it or not, you have a boyfriend. Would this be any different if you were Torrie Wilson?"

The thought had literally never crossed my mind. There would be a time when I'd see a guy and not only like him, but have no reason to object to it. In reality, why did I have one now? Was it because of who I am this week -- or who I was in a previous life?

"Paul... if Jeff tries to... I mean... what can I do?"

"Andy... if you were a single woman, you wouldn't be asking me. If you were a guy dating someone, you wouldn't ask. You knew what to do when that ringrat talked to John. You don't need my advice. The names may have changed, but the rules are the same. Just remember that."

I thanked Paul and began to leave. As I did, I kept repeating to myself, it's all the same, it's all the same, it's all the same, it's all...

*****

05:45 PM

"Shannon -- you gotta see this!"

I ran over. A group of people had gathered by a computer in the back as things were being run off a printer. It was no one near the top of the card -- they were off planning their matches and stories -- but still a sizable crowd. I tried to jump up and down in the back, but I couldn't see the monitor.

"What's the big deal?"

Kidman and Torrie showed me their copy. "You gotta get a pic of this!"

I stared at it. Certainly the picture was nothing amazing -- some girl modelling a piece of Hulk Hogan merchandise. I had no idea when it was taken, but considering the pose, I'd have guessed well over 10 years ago. Still, something was a little off about it.

"I don't get it. Where's it from?"

"Oh, it's from this wrestling crap site... what'd you say it was, Brian?"

"Wrestlecrap.com," Spanky yelled back.

"Yeah, that," Kidman said to me, as if he knew all along. "This was posted on Friday, and Brian here's been giving everyone copies."

"Why?"

Kidman stared at me, wondering how I didn't notice. "Don't you know who that IS?"

Before I could look a second time, the door opened. Stephanie burst in and stormed to the computer. "Brian! What are you printing?"

"Um... Ms. McMahon... i-i-i-it's not what you think..."

"Sure. Right. I got told you had used some program to create an embarrassing photo of me. For your sake, you'd better hope I was told wrong."

It clicked. Oh, why didn't I see this before? It's so obvious! I looked quickly back and forth from her to the photo. It took everything I had to keep from bursting out laughing. This is about 12 years old. And so's she! Whoa, this is wild!

"W-w-w-well, ma'am... it is a photo of you... but I didn't create it."

"What are you talking about?"

Brian called Stephanie over to the front of the computer and pointed the monitor in her direction. Instantly, she began laughing, her cheeks glowing red. "Oh, my God! Where'd you find that?"

"Oh, this internet site was going over some old WWF Magazine catalogs and pointing out some half-hearted merchandise in them. This picture was in there. I don't think he meant anything by it... ma'am... I just thought the guys would..."

She stopped him and smiled. "That's all right, Brian. My God, I forgot I used to do that. This is wonderful! Hey, can you get a copy over to Production? I think we can use it on tomorrow's show."

"Really? I mean, sure, thanks! Um... one more thing... Steph..."

"Yes, Brian?"

He slowly raised a copy of the photo he had printed. His smile glowed, making him look all of 10 years old -- a look magnified when he spoke with all the sheepishness of someone afraid to be told they'll be sent to bed without supper.

"Could you -- uh -- autograph my copy?"

*****

09:44 PM

We're main eventing. Wow. We came out for the main event of the evening, first to be introduced. The crowd went insane as we were introduced. I couldn't believe the noise. Everyone was holding up the V1 symbol and chanting "Matt! Matt! Matt!" I was in awe. Soon I would be in pain, but I didn't want to think of that.

The trumpet blast and fanfare led the World's Greatest Tag Team out after us. The crowd booed them out of the building as we stood in the ring. I wasn't told the finish -- merely that Matt would be a part of it and that I would know it when I saw it. I just knew that I was in for a long night.

They charged the ring and began to do their usual playing to the crowd as Matt headed outside. I stood in the back and waited for both men to turn their back to me. As they did, I charged. I bounced off of Haas and flew backward. Haas charged me and began to beat me down as Matt re-entered the ring to take on Shelton. Haas at least was able to protect me as he beat my character down. He picked me up, and a double whip was in order. This was something Matt and Shannon had practiced, so I knew what to do -- leap over him as he ducked underneath. This time, though, my momentum carried me straight into Shelton's superkick, knocking me flat.

Shelton covered, but I was up at two. Matt and Haas had left the ring, leaving me to take my punishmen. Shelton grabbed a legbar to keep me grounded. I crawled to the ropes, only to have Haas come in via the top rope and legdrop my head. As he was being escorted out, Shelton dropped me throat-first on the top rope from over his head. The familiar feeling of larynx against cable revisited me. Why, oh, why am I taking both halves of the punishment?

Shelton swung me into an inverted powerbomb off of the ropes and covered for two. Matt stood on the apron cheering me on as Haas came in. Haas and Shelton introduced a new tag team move -- and I got to be on the receiving end of it. Shelton flipped me into a fireman's carry, out of which Haas gave me a Stunner-type drop. I felt the whiplash as I hit the canvas. This just isn't fair.

Haas saw me grab my throat in pain and mounted me UFC-style. His punches weren't aimed at my face, though -- they were hitting the windpipe. I began to shove him off and tried to regain my breath. As he picked me up and put me in a tie-up, I struggled to ask, "Watch it, man!"

"Sorry," he said as he shoved me into his turnbuckle, "Vince's orders."

Shelton tagged in and climbed the turnbuckle. I was flipped onto Haas's shoulders, as the two delivered a Doomsday Device to me. Shelton covered, but Matt made the save. As Matt was escorted out, Haas grabbed me and threw me onto the top rope. As I lay prone, half my body weight on the rope and half on Haas's shoulders, I braced myself for the 250 pounds that was about to land on my back. Knowing it was coming didn't make it any easier.

After crumpling to the mat, I waited for Shelton to ascend the top rope. I didn't know what it was he'd be planning, but I knew I had to block it. He dove off, flipping in midair in a 450 press. He hit my knees, getting a roar from the crowd. I slowly moved toward my corner, feeling Shelton grab my leg as I dragged him along. He stood up. I felt the leg elevated and felt a twist in it. Shelton had turned it into an anklelock. I screamed in pain and tried to make the ropes as he continued to apply pressure. I crawled over as Matt continued to yell encouragement. After a full minute, I was within an inch...

...only to get pulled back to the center of the ring. I began to try to stand up instead, but Shelton anticipated this and dropped the hold, switching to an STF-like lock. While in this hold, I whispered to Shelton, "Take it easy! Please!"

"Can't," he replied. "I was told to punish you."

"So I heard," I said as I wiggled in an attempt to get free. I couldn't make the hold any easier to get out of, although I used my free leg to roll us both over for a two count before Shelton flipped us back. However, the rolling got us closer to our corner, and Matt climbed to the top rope. He yelled to the crowd and dove, breaking the hold with a legdrop. He returned to the corner as the crowd cheered again. With every ounce I was rightfully expected to have left, I crawled to the corner and extended my hand. Matt slapped it.

I slowly rolled to the outside and dropped off the apron, exhausted and battered. Every shot had been stiff, every hold cranked, every bending and twisting legitimate. As I slowly stood up, I heard a ring crew guy tell me to turn around slowly. When I did, I just barely had enough time to register that Tajiri was there before a red liquid flew straight into my face. I dropped to the ground motionless again. "To your knees," the guy yelled. Oh no. I slowly rolled up, facing away from Tajiri, and prepared for the worst. The boot hit my temple, knocking me flat -- but not as bad as I had thought.

In the ring, I heard an extra set of boots as the bell began to rang. I wasn't sure what was going on, but I heard the crowd booing, and I figured Tajiri had run in to get extra revenge. I slowly stood up and rolled into the ring, pulling myself up by the ropes. I saw Spanky and Tajiri -- playing the heels here -- joining in a four-on-one. Matt flew to the outside, and everyone followed him. I stood up and surveyed the situation. Here goes nothing. As Matt slid under the ring, I bounced off the far ropes. Everyone looked up just in time to see me launch and twist in midair. I dove backfirst onto the pile, which collapsed underneath me. The crowd began to cheer loudly as we slowly pulled ourselves up. Meanwhile, Matt had returned from under the ring and climbed onto the apron. As we all stood up, he delivered a quebrada onto all of us, and back down we went, with the crowd going insane the whole time.

We all picked ourselves up, and I felt two sets of fists hitting me in the back. I was tossed back into the ring when I heard the crowd cheer. I turned my head to the entrance and saw why -- the APA were headed to the ring. Simmons tossed Spanky around a few times while Bradshaw pounded Tajiri in the corner. I grabbed Haas as he rolled in and ran up the corner. One tornado DDT later, he hightailed it out. Bradshaw delivered his clothesline to Tajiri, who bailed soon after. The heels walked out as we all celebrated in the ring.

*****

11:45 PM

Raleigh, NC

"John... couldn't we... just take... the elevator?"

I was assigned baggage duty by Bradshaw for himself and for Ron. From what I could gather, their bags contained all their free weights and enough rubble to reconstruct the Man of the Mountain's face in New Hampshire. It didn't help that they were the sixth floor of the hotel -- or that Bradshaw insisted on taking the stairs.

"C'mon, boy, don't wuss out on me," he yelled. "If I can do it, you can do it!"

"Yes... sir."

Finally, after what seemed like 17 hours, we arrived at the APA's hotel room. John slid his key in and opened the door. I quickly dumped everything off where he said and was dismissed. I crawled out of the room and checked my own keypass. Oh, joy, right next door.

If they make me carry those bags again tomorrow, I think I'll go insane. On my door was a picture. It must have come from the WrestleCrap site, because everything was as I recognized it from visits when I was alive.

WRESTLECRAP (res'l krap): n.: 1) a gimmick that is an embarrassment to pro wrestling; 2) any angle that results in pain and agony to all who see it; 3) Shannon Moore no-selling the green mist -- come on, you're only Shannon Moore!

Under it was a note: "Shannon -- you're famous! Spanky"

Great. I have a lot to make up for. I guess I'd better do everything I can tomorrow, or I'll be fired. Okay, or Shannon will be fired.

Or maybe, I'll go with him.

*****

Tuesday, September 16, 2003, 10:35 AM

Raleigh, NC

My mind was so cluttered with thoughts that my head hurt as I walked in for the meeting. Well, my arms hurt too -- turns out Bradshaw did put unnecessary weight in his bag when I was carrying it. I knew better than to complain about a few free weights, since there had to be somewhere to put them, but I thought 25 pounders were just a bit over the top. Then again, Shannon was being punished -- the tribe had spoken, so to speak.

Matt was next to me, his eyes brighter than I remembered in a long time. There was a spring in his step, and I couldn't imagine what was the sudden fanfare. "Matt," I asked, "what's with you? You win the lottery?"

"Nope, better," he replied. "We're gonna win tonight!"

"We are?"

"Yeah! I mean, we're still gonna get the bejezus pounded out of us -- specially you -- but they're giving us a mini-reign of a week or two as we go through our home base."

"Sweet."

"Yeah it is. It's gonna be awesome."

"Wait -- how much we gonna take?"

"Well, it is a TLC match. They're brutal. Trust me, we're gonna fly through tables and off of ladders -- I mean, nothing we all haven't done before, but it's gonna be a lot at once, you know?"

"Yeah, I see." I was hardly looking forward to it, especially with Bradshaw and Tajiri in there to dole out my sentence. However, it appeared Vince had a soft side. I'd have to see, I guess.

Vince walked in and sat down in the front row. The crowd seemed to hush a little with his presence. Unbeknownst to the others, I slipped on my glasses in an attempt to find Greg. As I saw Vince, I yanked them off. In his place had been something I'd never seen before. It was dressed in a black toga, and it seemed to notice my presence -- even as Vince looked the other way, it turned to face me. Just seeing it made me feel scared for my being, even though it was 10 yards away. I gulped as a tear rolled down my cheek. I didn't even know I was crying, but my eyes stung from the vision.

I couldn't pay attention to the RAW broadcast. I only saw things happen in a blur, taking in partial results. I could look them up later if I wanted to... as soon as this image leaves me. The results weren't all that surprising, and the show was basically a buildup show. It was nothing we couldn't blow out of the water.

*****

03:15 PM

"Paul, I'm telling you, it was huge. It wore this sheet over its shoulders and it knew I was watching... I was scared for my life just seeing its eyes!"

"Hold on, Andy, hold on," said Paul, trying desperately to calm me down. We were in the conference room, as Greg (Hogan) and I had equally distressed looks on our faces. Greg had seen the same thing I did, but he saw it the previous day. We both trembled as we tried to describe it to Paul, who was confused.

"Let me step outside for a second. I gotta call Shawn. I'll be right back."

He exited, leaving Greg and myself alone.

"Greg," I said, "you don't think Vince is better, do you?"

"Brother, he didn't look better today. I'm scared, dude."

"Me too. I'm just glad Kath's safe this week."

"Where is she?"

"She's still in Recovery -- I think whatever she did was a big mistake... she nearly blinked out. She's got a lot to learn, man."

Greg scoffed at me. "You're one to talk. You nearly broke her will to live. Now look where it's gotten us -- Shannon Moore's this close to being fired, Tajiri's really pissed off... you ruined her."

"Oh, come on. You're just saying that because she..." I stopped myself. Was I really going to say what I think I was about to say? That would've been a big mistake. I could've jeopardized our entire relationship. Then at best, I'd wake up the next Monday in a new environment. At worst, I'd never wake up.

"Andy... look, I think I gotta set the record straight, man. I was her age when I died. Not much older, anyway, bro. I never got a chance to live right. I've been doing this longer than anyone else, but I'm new to this assignment. I wanted to make her feel at home. She's a wonderful girl, and I really like her. I don't want anything bad to happen. That's why I'm so defensive."

Longer than anyone else? "Greg," I said, "how old were you? And when did you die?"

He paused for a long time, as if struggling with a secret he felt shame about. "You saw me. You know I was wearing combat stuff when I got shot. I was 20. But I've been 20 for longer than I've been alive. Andy, I died during Tet."

I paused. "Tet? What was that?"

"You kids don't know your history," he smirked. "The Tet Offensive. It was a big sucker-punch during the Vietnam War. Both sides had a standing agreement to leave the other alone on their holy day. But the Cong attacked us. We were blitzed. I couldn't respond. That's what got me here."

"Damn," I said. "So you died like I did. Ambushed."

"Kinda," he replied. "I mean, I didn't want to fight over there, but... you couldn't avoid it. You couldn't just back off like some of my friends did. That's not who I am. I'm given a task, and dammit, I go do it. That's why I'm being so close to Kath -- I want to teach her to fight through it. I've done this before. I'm almost always paired with young people. It's how I keep the dream alive."

I thought before responding. Here was someone who had been working with his high school and college contemporaries for longer than I'd been in existence, alive or dead. I guess he knew how to handle someone like Kathleen. I also guessed I didn't.

I began to wonder if I was more harm than good. It was certain that I needed to patch things up, but with Kathleen emotionally and physically unstable, now wasn't the time. I bit my lip as I tried to imagine whether my existence was the problem. Certainly, she saw me last week and couldn't handle it, but over the weekend she seemed to cling to me. Maybe it was because she needed someone, anyone, to talk to. I wasn't quite in the position to help. I even hated saying I forgave her -- because I wasn't sure I did.

"Greg," I finally said, "do you think it would be best if I left the mission?"

"No, you can't do that," he replied almost immediately. "You were put here to help others. You can't just leave. You've already done some good -- I heard about Eddie. You're not a negative. You just need to put things aside with Kathleen."

"I don't know if I can... I think I..." I took a deep breath. "I think I should switch off. When Kathleen comes back, she's going to still hate me. I can't have her do that. For everyone's sake, it's best if I just move out of the picture."

"Well, that's not my call to make," he said. "I guess it would be ok if you asked someone else about it. But I don't choose where you go. You have to work that out inside."

Everything he was saying made sense. I couldn't explain why, but it did. I knew that what he said was what was true. I also knew it was what I believed. If I was going to gain any sort of closure, now was not the time. The best thing was to move on, if only for a little while.

"Greg," I said. "How do I put in a request to transfer? At least, I can go to RAW."

"Well, the important thing is to talk to Paul. He'll try to work it out. But the problem is... it's not his decision either. I mean, Paul and Shawn thought Lindsay and I would switch, but if God thinks you're better off with SmackDown!, brother, you're staying there. It has nothing to do with whose Recovery room you're in or what city you stop at."

"So what do I do?"

"Same thing we all do. Ask for help."

Just then, Paul returned. "Guys, I talked to Shawn, and he isn't sure what it is either, but he'll keep me posted. He says he's going to run it by Lindsay and Owen and see if they know. Greg, you sure you haven't seen this before?"

"Not that I can remember. I mean, not this in particular, no. And none of my intermediaries know what it is either."

"Okay, guys... just be careful. Whatever it is... it seems to know about us. That can't be good. Come on, guys. Let's go win some hearts and minds."

As we left, Greg stopped me. He had removed the glasses and paused before readying himself for the transformation to Hulk Hogan. "Andy, bro," he said, "just try to do the right thing. That's all we can do."

I nodded and went on my way. Before I left, though, Paul poked his head back in. "Sorry, guys... Andy, it's Lindsay. She's Maven this week, just to let you know... she wants to talk to you."

I took the phone. "Hey."

"Andy, what did you see? I think I know what it is."

"It was this creature... it didn't even look all that human. It had this glow in its eyes when it turned to face me. Just seeing the thing made me want to run somewhere else. And I took off my glasses, and the thing wasn't facing the same way Vince was. It could move without him and see without him..."

"Wait, it moved when Vince didn't? Oh no."

"What? What is it?"

"He's possessed."

"He's what?"

"Andy, there are such things as demons. This shouldn't surprise you."

"How? People who are lost just blink out."

"Not all of them! Some of them are renewed as evil beings. They live by hopping from lost to lost and destroying them from within. If we can't get to Vince soon, he'll die!"

"But how much time do we have?"

"I don't know... they're all different. Jake the Snake's still alive, and he's been... six years or so. Pillman... Brian didn't last two months. I'd have to see him. I'll let you know next time I see him."

"When will that be?"

"I don't know... he's with you now... I presume he's going to go from MSG to Unforgiven. Next week I'll know more. I'm sorry I can't be of any help now."

"No, no... you've helped a lot. I'm just gonna warn Greg. Thank you. I'll try to see you soon."

I hung up and turned to Greg. "We're in a lot of trouble."